


Foundlings above even the Tribe

by MissTeaVee



Series: Our Survival is our Strength [7]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: A whole lot of angst, Gen, Missing Scene, Post Episode 3, listen I'm goign to be optimistic and say some of the Tribe got away okay, might even count as whump in a few spots, spoilers for The Mandalorian episodes 7 and 8, the indomitable Mandalorian spirit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22032769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTeaVee/pseuds/MissTeaVee
Summary: The Mandalorian clan on Navarro was wiped out. Except… some of them have Foundlings, and they are obligated to flee with their children to protect them. So they do.Focus on my OC Savii, mostly canon compliant. Spot the Clone wars character who snuck in and joined the Covert!
Series: Our Survival is our Strength [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707184
Comments: 114
Kudos: 160





	1. Preparation

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to actually write this hellhole of a fic that's been in my head. Not a happy story, but maybe there’ll be hope at the end of the tunnel.

Booted feet pound through the twisting ally, trying to catch the hooded figure fleeing before them. But their quarry knows these streets, the twists and dead ends, the secret exists, and suddenly the pursuers stop short in confusion, coming ot a dead end, their prey gone.

“Damnit!” Spits a Stormtrooper. “Where’d he go?”

“I’ll radio command, let them know we lost the Mandalo-”

A figure silent drops from the roof on top of him. He barely cries out before his throat is cut. The others whirl, blasters rising, but now the hunters have become the prey.

* * *

A small form drops out of one of the many light providing vent accesses to the sewers, and the two gambling Mandalorians jump to their feet, hands going for their blasters.

 _ <It’s me,> _ snaps a voice in their tongue, and they settle back down.

“Damn it Kiko, what are you doing coming in like that?”

“Couldn’t come in the normal way, there’s Imperials everywhere,” Says Kiko, raising his voice, wanting the Tribe to hear. “A troopship just arrived, they’re marching on the town!”

“What!?”

“It hasn’t been a day since we revealed ourselves.”

“How can there be that many!?”

“We can take a ship’s worth of stormtroopers, we have every advantage!”

“Enough,” says a sharp, firm voice. All fall silent as their Leader, their Armorer steps out into the main hallway. Foundlings are clustered at one intersection, watching. The clan leader looks around at the group, then towards the scout. “Kiko Therria. Report.”

“Stormtroopers are marching on the town. I was wrapped in scarf and cloak to conceal my helmet and armor, but it didn’t matter. They were grabbing every person and forcing them to show faces if they were bundled. Even the Jawas were checked,” He explains. “Some of the bounty hunters resisted and they were dragged down and shot. Every time a stormtrooper died, two more came to fill the space. I overheard them saying that more will be arriving soon to reinforce what’s already here. They’re turning the town into a stronghold.”

He glances towards the nearest doorway into the Covert. “A stormtrooper grabbed my arm and I had to break his wrist to escape. My cloak slipped in the scuffle and they spotted my armor. I’ve killed four, and then I came down the vent, but it’s only a matter of time before they sweep the sewers as well. There’s already a good hundred, and twice that are on their way.”

“Where the hell did they come from?”snarls Paz Vizla. “How did they get here so quickly?”

“I don’t know,” Kiko answers, dropping his head. “But the usual paths we take out are not safe anymore. There arn’t any suitable ships for us… the Jawas are too afraid right now.”

“There are indeed suitable ships, if we have the wit to capture them,” says the Clan leader evenly. “The Imperials have provided them.”

“What!” exclaims Edii. “Alor, those ships will be full of tracking beacons, they’d follow us right to our new Covert!”

“But one could still bring our people to another world. One markedly unfriendly to Imperial kind. It would be then an easy task to hurriedly replace the ship with a more suitable one, and travel elsewhere. Tattooine would suffice,” their Alor’s calm demeanour settled the agitated clans, and all gathered to listen to her. She looked around at her Tribe.

“All you with a Foundling or Offspring under your care, you must take your charge and bring them to safety. Gather your things and your little ones and come to the Forge in one hour. Clan heads, join me now, we must form a plan that allows our Children the greatest chance of escape. This is the way.”

“This is they way,” it is said intently, voices low and resolute. This is the Way, though their chances are slim.

* * *

Savii Ranov’s first memory is of being abandoned. She was very small then; three years old at most. She does not have memory of earlier in that terrible day, wherein a Mandalorian had heard her pitiful cries under rubble, and dug her free of debris and the protective arms of her dead mother. She is grateful for that fact when she thinks about it.

What she does remember is this: Seeing her father and crying out to him, the Mandalorian who found her letting her run to him. Her father’s shock, then relief, looking around… and then his face hardening when he didn’t see her mother. He didn’t want her. He’d only ever wanted her mother, and with the woman dead, he had no use for his Halfbreed child.

She’d clung to him in fear and confusion until he shoved her away. She remembers even now, twenty-five years later, the snarl of her Mandalorian Finder. _If it were not for the fact that it’d traumatize this child further, I’d kill you where you stand._

She remember being picked up and cradled afterwards, the Mandalorian promising to protect her as their own. She was given a new name, one untainted by the man who had offered her nothing but genetics. A rushed name, maybe, the Mandalorian focused on bringing her to safety, but a name given with good intentions and the seeds of love.

And this is why she is now ensuring that her blasters are fully charged and her vibroblade sharp. She’s been raised on the Creed, on the Resol’nare. She knows full well that the coming battle will likely be fatal for many of their number. Perhaps even her. She doesn’t think she’s afraid, but she’s not unafraid either. It’s a strange sensation, the definition of _Shereshoy,_ perhaps, and she both relishes and hates it.

If she dies, she will become part of the Manda; the All that encompasses every being who follows the Creed, the combined protective spirit of their people and those who have marched ahead. If it is her destiny to march on, then she will do so unhesitatingly for the Tribe, and as long as there are those that live who remember her, she too will live on. When she is no longer remembered in this world, they will be with her in the next.

It is comforting. There is no shame in dying a warrior’s death.

She’d rather live though, if presented the option, but not at the expense of her Tribe or Creed. She is a Mandalorian and she will die as one. So she prepares her weapons and looks over her armor. Her only beskar is her helmet and her greaves, the rest is durasteel or formed leather. She looks over her blasters and long guns; her precious slugthrower and farsight blaster. But a slugthrower is of little use in battle, so she doesn’t take it, instead ensuring she has her sidearm in it’s hip sheath, and her old-yet-reliable clone wars era short blaster in hand. Her Farsight is strapped over her shoulder, just in case.

She steps out of her quarters into the bustling corridor, aiming to help one of the tribe’s elders set traps when someone grasps her elbow sharply. She looks around to see a familiar helmet, the T-visor stylized to look like the face of a bird, trimmed in yellow.

“Buir? What?”

“Where’s your vod’ika?”

“With the Foundlings,” She says slowly. “Arn’t you going to the Forge?”

“No, Ad’ika, I have no Foundling. But you do.”

Savii stills, grasping at her rifle, looking at the being who had Found her and raised her as their own. She can’t let her buir stay here while she flees. “No… Zari is your child, I’m just his sibling.”

“But he is your Foundling, you brought him to the Tribe, Ad’ika. You were too young for a child of your own, so I took him in, but he is your responsibility.”

“No, Buir, I won’t abandon the Covert.”

“You know that it’s your duty-” Hands clasp at either side of her helmet, the yellow and grey helmet touching to hers. Savii closes her eyes for a moment. “Savii Ranov, my first child, by tradition Zari is your Foundling. He needs you. The Tribe will need your energy and optimism in this dark time more than my wisdom. Please take your brother and flee this place. Protect the foundlings with your steady hands. This is the Way.”

“I… Buir…” She can’t… staying here and fighting is easier than-

“Savii, swear to me you will protect him, you will raise him to be a warrior, as I did for you.”

She swallows, and is grateful that her helmet hides her forming tears. “I will raise Zari Ranov to honor our Creed. This is… this is the Way. But _buir_ …”

A gentle hand slides under her head scarf to where her helmet is open in the back, pushing aside the chainmail and leather secured there to stroke at what what is hidden beneath, and for a brief moment, Abara Ranov soothes their daughter as they had when she was young. “Do not make me leave my child behind to die in my stead, Savii.”

“I will remember you, so you will be eternal,” She whispers, nodding against her beloved buir’s forehead, and then parent and child are separated, moving in different directions. Neither looks back.

* * *

“Zari, are you packed?”

“Yes Ori’vod, I have everything,” He hefts the bag over his shoulder. Savii nods, holding out a blaster to him. His eyes widen, and he looks from it to his sister as he carefully grasps it. “Really!?”

“You’re eleven, you know how to shoot,” she says, picking up his helmet and gently placing it on his head. “Do not be rash with it. Remember your trigger discipline.”

“I will Savii, I promise,” he tucks it into the empty holster on his belt, standing straight and proud of the responsibility brought on by the gun. Less afraid, hopefully not about to think on the fact that their Buir wasn’t going to be part of the group that was to try and escape and steal an Imperial shuttle.

They head for the Forge, and as they approach, weaving through the bustle of a Tribe preparing for War, Savii senses something’s wrong, but she can’t quite figure it out, distracted as she is by holding her little brother’s wrist. He’s carrying his possessions; the only things of hers she’s bothered to save are the blasters and charge packs she can carry, and one medkit. It is Zari who spots it, and announces his discovery loudly.

“Savii! The Mythosaur skull is gone! Where did it go!?”

The energy around them halts for a moment, every Mandalorian who heard turning to look at the archway that Leads to the Forge, where the great Mythosaur skull formed of pure Beskar; the symbol their people has hung undisturbed for so many years. It is gone, only its shadow remaining. Savii stares at the empty spot, disturbed. Then she lifts her chin resolutely. “Someone took it down to keep it safe, that’s all vod’ika. Come on, let’s not keep Al’Alor waiting.”

She pulls Zari into the Forge, and behind her comes her uncle Paz with his three Foundlings, and Ruusaan and Ordo, each with one. Edii and her two biological children are already here. They wait a little longer, until Satrina and Korm’rk arrive with their three. This is the collective future of the Tribe; Eleven children, and the Seven adults who guard them.

The Clan leader looks around at them, gaze pausing just a moment on Savii, head tilting slowly. Then her attention turns to a corner, and Savii is surprised to see Eyah. He is an old man, older than his years, and he has no Foundling. He is a slicer than none could surpass, and sharper of reflex than many a being half his age, and there are quiet rumours that he is actually a droid under the armor; the mechanical noises when he walks are impossible to miss. Savii remembers sitting at his feet and listening to him spin tales of the clone wars and the Old Republic when she was little. He always had the best stories.

The Clan leader folds her arms, looking over them. “Eyah has found a small Imperial cargo shuttle that you will attempt to steal. He will lead you through the tunnels as close as he can to it. When you are there, send us a pulse-signal, and the Tribe will Mobilize against the Imperials, drawing them away. Eyah will slice into the ship’s computer and ensure that they cannot stop it remotely.”

“You’re coming with us, right Alor?” Asks one of Paz’s foundlings. Their Leader looks too them and shakes her head once.

“My place is here. Paz,” She turns to her head to the Heavy Gunner, who straightens. The clan leader gestures over all of them. “This is your little Tribe. Lead them well, protect them. Until we reunite, they are your responsibility.”

“Yes Alor,” He rumbles, setting his shoulders in determination. Savii does not envy his position. She can feel Zari trembling beside her and squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

Then, the Clan chief, maker of their armor and weapons, walks around behind her forge. “I have made each of you warriors something from the Beskar we had reserved. Paz Vizla, step forward.”

“Reserved?” Savii hears Korm’rk mutter. Satrina leans in close to his Riduur.

“The Mythosaur skull… she must’ve melted it down to use,” Satrina likely meant for it to go almost unheard, but Savii is close enough, and she turns her gaze to where their Chieftain is loading Whistling Birds into Paz’s left vambrace. Of course. The artefact was valuable, but not so much as the Foundlings. As they all watch, Paz is handed a short sword, made of beskar. He looks at it, thumbing at a switch on the hilt that causes it to come to life, energy sparking along its length and the blade itself vibrating with an intensity she’s never seen, visible only because of their helmet filters.

“This is the mark of you position as Alor of this small Tribe,” says the Clan leader to him. “It is a mighty tool. Our ancestors used similar blades to repel the attacks of enemies with plasma blades. It will cut through plastisteel armor instantly. Even beskar can be surpassed by it; the electricity will travel through metal and shock the enemy.”

“Thank you,” Paz bows his head, turning off the power and putting the blade at his hip. He steps back, and the clan leader calls forward Edii, who receives a long thin knife of similar properties to Paz’s sword. Savii can suddenly see the table, and realizes that there is such a knife for each of them, and… more Whistling birds. The little defensive rockets are difficult to make, how long has their clan leader laboured to make such a pile of them for her fleeing tribesmen?

One by one, the Mandalorian warriors approach their leader and she gifts them each an electrified beskar vibroblade and fills their vambraces with whistling birds. Everyone ensures they have all the munitions they can carry; Ordo is sure to have as many explosives as will fit on one belt. Finally, Savii is called up, and she wonders what she will receive; for her Vambraces are not beskar, and Whistling birds do not always agree with durasteel.

She sees her answer before she is in front of her leader, and silently she presents her forearms. The Clan leader nods, removing Savii’s purple Vambraces and replacing them with fresh beskar ones, the Whistling Birds already in place. Savii looks down at her new pieces of armor, and as great an honor as it is to be gifted such an amount of beskar, she wishes there was no need for it. She looks up at the clan chief when she speaks.

“May these keep your hands steady, for when the fight becomes dire.”

“Vore Entye, Al’Alor,” She says, accepting the knife when it is presented to her.

“You are all equipped as best I can give you,” Says their leader, her voice as serene as it always is. “Now is the time to go, already, more Imperials are flooding the town, and before long, they will be investigating the underlevel. Until we meet again.”

As one, the adult Mandalorians salute her, and then they turn to Paz to lead them. He audibly clears his throat, and then gestures to Eyah. “Show us the way, wise one.”

Eyah nods, and leads them out of the forge, they start heading down the tunnel, but Savii is halted by someone calling her name. She looks around to see Hasal.

“I have to go,” she tells him.

“I know, but take this,” he says, pulling his Amban rifle and bandolier off his shoulder. She gapes at him under her helmet; the disintegration rifles are a rare and precious weapon. Only Din, Hasal and Gota have each one in the Tribe. To be gifted one is unheard of. “Take it, It’s no good in a pitched battle. Besides, I know you’ve been lusting after one for years.”

She hesitates, but then grasped the gun, setting it over her shoulder with the Farsight, and wrapping the bandolier around her waist for the moment until she’ll have an instant to adjust it. “Thank you. I will return it to you someday.”

“This is the Way,” he replies, not bringing up the odds of him surviving long enough to see the gun again.

“This is the Way,” she echos, and then she turns on her heel and hurries to catch up to the Foundling group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shereshoy- _lust for life and much more - uniquely Mandalorian word, meaning the enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as surviving to see the next day - hanging onto life and relishing it. An understandable state of mind/ emotion for a warrior people. Closely related to the words for live, hunt and stay safe - and, of course *oya*. All from the same root._
> 
> Vore Entye- Formal Mandalorian Thanks, literally “I accept a debt”
> 
> Savii is overall an optimistic and carefree Mandalorian... but certain situations like, say, contemplating that your entire people is about to be wiped out except for a handful of you is enough to make anyone grim.


	2. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is... a violent chapter. The Mandalorian children are exposed to death and violence, including one of the little ones having to kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes on relationships: 
> 
> Savii’s Buir is Paz’s sibling but has a different last name. Reason being is Abara Ranov was orphaned from another Mandalorian family as a young teenager and taken in by the Vizlas. The Vizlas didn’t rename Abara because they didn’t want to lose their family name. Both of Abara’s children use the Ranov name after their parent. Savii is Paz’s favorite Niece on account of being his only niece.  
> Some Mandalorians rename their adopted children, some don’t, it comes down to preference, the child’s own choice if they’re old enough, and possibly other factors. And I have no regrets for naming my character “Purple secret” (Savii(n) (a)Ranov) because there’s a canon Mandalorian whose name translates to Knife Vengeance (Kal Skirata). so if Stabby Revenge is good enough for canon…

[ Click here to see Savii’s character sheet. ](https://www.deviantart.com/misshovercraft/art/Mandalorian-OC-825950113)

* * *

The first problem comes at what the Mandalorians consider the edge of their Covert. It’s just another hallway, but at the intersection stand a couple warriors, blasters at the ready. Savii’s heart drops when she sees her Finder, her _Buir_ standing there. Abara’s head turns, and for a long moment, Parent and child look into each other’s visor. Then Abara’s attention turns to Paz, who has paused a couple paces away.

“Be well, little brother,” Abara says to the man who they were raised beside. Paz nods and pats his sibling’s shoulder once without returning the blessing.

“Buir?” Zari’s voice is wary, and Savii lets out a regretful noise. This is what she’d been hoping to avoid. “You’re staying?”

“Of course,” says Abara. “You have your Finder, your sister to take care of you, and she will. This I know.”

“But… but what about Savii? You’re her finder, doesn’t she need you!?” Zari’s voice is rising hysterically, and Savii clamps her hand on the Foundling’s shoulder and gives him a little push.

“Let’s go, Vod’ika,” she says sharply, feeling pressure build at the back of her eyes. She can’t cry right now. “Buir is doing thier duty and following the Creed, so must we.”

“Ba’vod’u?” says one of Paz’s foundlings, stopping to look at Abara. “Will we see you again?”

“Of course you will,” says Abara breezily. “It may be a long while from now though. You will need confirmation that it is safe to contact Navarro first.”

“Come on, Adiikase,” rumbles Paz grimly. “We need to move. The sooner we’re away safely the sooner the rest of the Covert can join us.”

Savii doesn’t say anything to her Buir; They’ve already said Goodbye, and anything more would break her. Zari breaks out of the group toward their parent, but Savii stops him. “We need to go, little brother,” she tells him quietly. “If you hug buir, then the little ones will want to as well, then everyone will want to go find their ba’vod’ue for a hug. There’s no time.”

Zari pauses, looking at Paz’s two younger foundlings, then pushes up his helmet to wipe his eyes and nods once. He has to be strong. Savii sighs, patting the top of his helmet once. He is Eleven; he’s still learning to wear the buyce. It’s no sin for a child to pull theirs off, but to do so casually would still often earn a gentle reprimand from one of their minders. Not now though, not when there are more important things to worry about.

Eyah leads the group down the halls. At some points, the sewers are a neat and easy grid pattern, in others, they twist and turn unpredictably. Savii doesn’t know how the old man is so confident in his path, but she didn’t ask, simply remains alert.

The sound of blasterfire suddenly echoes down the hall. Everyone freezes and glances around.

“Keep Moving,” Paz rumbles after a moment. “We must get to safety.”

“They found the Covert,” gasps Paz’s eldest. He looks to be on the brink of turning back, but Paz firmly grasps the boy’s shoulder.

“Keep moving Jiiv.”

“But- buir!”

“No buts. Their duty is to fight for the Tribe, ours is to take the future of the Tribe-that’s you- to safety, and your duty is to stay alive, which means listening. Understand?”

“Yes Buir,” says the youngster quietly. Savii sympathises with her cousin; he’s fourteen; sworn to the Creed, culturally an adult, but still considered to be in training. It is a transition stage between childhood and maturity, and a very frustrating position. The only other teenager in the group has been blessedly obedient, though that’s probably because he’s distracted trying to keep his 2-year old brother quiet.

“Good, look after your siblings. Uba, Cedki, hold hands with your ori’vod.”

Paz’s three join hands in a line, the Eldest at one end, gripping a blaster tightly. The group moves silently though the tunnels, and it isn’t long before they hear marching feet. Paz’s hand lifts to halt them all, Eyah up front slowing and tapping at his helmet to check through the walls for life signs. He slinks back to the group.

“A scouting party, five stormtroopers.”

A scoff rumbles through the Mandalorians at that. Only five? Easy. Then Eyah keeps speaking. “We should take one alive, I want to know where they’ve placed themselves.”

Paz contemplates that, then glances over his shoulder at the group. “Everyone tuck down the side hall. Savii, you’re our best runner. Stand in the middle of the corridor; when they come around the corner, make sure they see you then turn and flee down the hall. Take the first corner so they chase.”

She nods, grinning beneath her helmet, glancing towards Zari. “Watch what happens closely, little brother. Foundlings your age rarely get to see a Hunt.”

He nods, going with the other foundlings down the side hall, tucking in behind the adults and the two teenagers. Savii stands in the center of the corridor as the Mandalorians stand themselves in a line a few paces away from the intersection, their blasters holstered. Savii swaggers forward, deliberately showing off carelessness in the face of the enemies who will see her and attack. Bait is a dangerous position to be in, and she wants to show her _mandokar_ with the opportunity presented.

She hears her little brother whisper worriedly, and she reminds herself that becoming injured would just make her a liability. Showing off is fine, but not to the point of becoming a burden. Still, best put on a good show for the Imperials. The first rounds the corner ahead, and she stops, still as a statue. It takes them a moment to notice her silhouette, and when they do, they all pause to consider her. She considers back.

She is a sharpshooter, there are five enemies down the hall, enemies who are notoriously bad shots. The way they hesitate, she thinks that she could probably down each of them on her own. But she has been given orders by one she respects, so she takes a step back as if dismayed.

“Freeze!” shouts one of the stormtroopers. “Don’t move, Mando!”

Savii spins on her heel and takes off running, past the intersection where the others are hiding, aiming for the next intersection, where she will tuck up out of the way. The Stormtroopers come to life, chasing her, howling like wolves after a deer. Fools.

The howls become yelps and then screams within moments. Savii steps out from her corner to see a neck snapped under Mandalorian boots, another stormtrooper’s arm bent backwards at the elbow before he is finished with a vibroblade. Two more fall to perfectly placed blaster shots. The fifth is slammed into the wall by Paz, pinned there by the massive Mandalorian. Paz rips the helmet off his enemy and drops it to the floor, kicking it away with disdain.

Savii returns to the group, swaying her hips just a little, feeling the need to kill thrumming through her veins. “I think your plan was overthought, Ba’vod’u. One of us alone could’ve handled the entire group of them.”

“Maybe,” he says, tilting his helmet at her. “But take every advantage you have. Take everyone around the next corner. Eyah, you had some questions you wanted to ask our…” he pauses, helmet turned towards the victim presently choking for air in his grasp. “Friend.”

“I do,” says Eyah quietly. “Korm’rk, you are the doctor - you know what this human’s body can take. ill you help me interrogate him?”

“Of course.”

“Come along, younglings,” says Satrina, putting hands on the shoulders of two of the children. Savii helps them herd the kids along. She knows the moment Paz releases the stormtrooper’s throat, because he immediately starts sobbing.

“Please… please don’t- I’m just doing a job I-”

There is the sound of a blow, and Edii very calmly prevents her daughter from turning to look. The children don’t need to see this, not yet. The stormtrooper’s sobbing intensifies, but they herd the kids around the corner, and Ordo distracts them by asking what they learned by watching the takedown. Savii leans on the corner, ensuring none of the kids peek at what’s happening behind them.

The kids contemplate the question they’ve been asked. Tomad, the eldest of the Foundlings speaks first. “It was fast, you all picked your target and each brought down your foe without stopping for an instant. That means you… already had a plan for the takedowns, even though we didn’t hear you discuss one.”

“Good,” says Satrina, clearly proud of his Eldest. The young man straightens at the praise. “We know one another well. Paz is the best-armored of us all, and the strongest. He would have the easiest time controlling a living victim and we all knew it, so we left to him the task of claiming a live one.”

“You… you used as few motions as possible!” says Zari nervously, glancing over his shoulder to Savii, who nods to him. “But… why did Savii have to run as bait? She said any one of you could’ve taken the whole group.”

“Likely yes,” Says Edii, “But it is tactical to use whatever advantages you have. One Mandalorian can fell many stormtroopers, but you know the crucial rule of a physical fight: they rarely last more than a few blows. The body is put under a lot of strain. Sheer numbers can overwhelm the finest soldier. Savii likely could’ve taken all the stormtroopers, but acting as a group, we assured our victory without anyone gaining a scratch.”

“Pride comes easy to a Mandalorian,” Savii adds. “I even thought about it while they came ‘round the corner to look at me. I had the instinct to shoot them all myself. But if one of them had been lucky and shot me… I could have died, and then I would not be here to continue to protect you, vod’ika. Or if injured, I would become a burden for the others to carry.”

Zari nods, wringing his hands together. Savii glances down the hallway towards where Paz is still holding the Stormtrooper up while Eyah and Korm’rk question him. She feels some pity for the Imperial, but not enough to suggest they stop what they’re doing. Imperials have done her people worse a million times over. They are the reason Mandalorians hide in the shadows, forbidden to show their faces to anyone but their most trusted families. They are why her people are naught but ghost and legend to the Galaxy that had once respected the children of Mando’yaim.

“Ah, what else?” says Ordo. “Ahh, what was the point of using Savii as bait?”

“Buir?” says little Raela, raising her hand. “They got so excited seeing her run away from them that they forgot to watch out for traps.”

“Very good Cyar’ika,” he says warmly to his Foundling. Raela brightens happily as he squeezes at her shoulder. “Seeing what they thought was prey so near at hand, they lost their senses and chased like mad dogs. Do not make that mistake. Be logical and cunning even in your greatest moments of passion.”

Hearing the sound of someone choking out, Savii peeks over her shoulder again to see Paz, Korm’rk and Eyah walking to rejoin the group, the Stormtrooper’s body lying across the floor with a growing puddle of blood surrounding it. She stands up from her lean and grasps at her cape, pulling up the bottom of it and pointing silently at their gloves. There’s a moment of hesitation, but they all take her implied suggestion, wiping as much of the blood as possible off their gauntlets with the offered fabric before the little ones would see it. Paz gives her shoulder a friendly squeeze once he’s dropped her cloak to let it hang unhindered again. The deep color of the cloth conceals the stains now coating it.

“Another left then a right, we’ll come up out in the old maintenance yard,” Says Eyah. “That Stormtrooper we caught said that several of them are fortifying the area round here to turn into their main compound.”

“Good choice for it,” mutters Ruusaan. “I remember when we scoped it out for the Covert.”

“They won’t be expecting us to know the layout,” Humms Eyah. “Even better is they landed a cargo shuttle not too far from the exit I’m bringing us to. I’m wary of getting on board and then trying to start it, though… I’ve had… experiences with trying to capture shuttles.” He rubs at his right arm with the air of someone touching an old wound.

“We’ll see what they have covering the ships. How long will you need to hack it?” Paz asks, calling a break where they are. Some of the children sit down against the wall, and Eyah slumps backwards against a couple pipes with a little groan. The other adults remain standing, but Eyah is functionally an Elder; he’s lived long enough to deserve a rest sometimes.

“Not long. I keep up with evolving tech, and the Empire’s techs were always sloppy. A sufficiently motivated Loth-cat could hack their systems if it really wanted to.”

Paz chuckles at the mild boast, tapping his fingers thoughtfully as he looked over the group. Savii can’t help pacing back and forth across the hall, feeling agitated. Paz leans up on the wall, the group discussing their options seriously. The children remain silent.

Finally a plan is made to take advantage of the setting sun. Savii is boosted up on her uncle’s shoulder until she can push a manhole aside and carefully crawl out. There’s a rustling as fourteen year old Jiiv is pushed up after her. She gestures for him to keep low and follow her. She crawls on her belly, trusting the young man to follow. She doesn’t like this, having her young cousin as her backup instead of safe(ish) with the other foundlings, but all the adults need to coordinate on this plan, and Savii as Sniper, needs a spotter to make sure she won’t be snuck up on while watching through her scope.

The stormtroopers have sloppily stacked cargo from their shuttles around the maintenance yard. There’s no organization to it, and Savii keeps Jiiv and herself behind the cover provided by the crates. She tucks up in a corner to rest a moment and plan out their route, shifting as Jiiv presses up at her side.

“I’m scared, cousin,” he whispers to her. She pets his shoulder reassuringly, then peers around.

“I know, but I need you to be brave. Work through the fear for me, okay?” She tells him. “We’re going up that ladder to the overseer’s room and we’re going to kill the stormtroopers we find there so we can look out for the others. They need us keeping watch for them.”

Jiiv nods, arms trembling. Savii sighs to herself, trying to channel her Buir’s cool patience. Her little brother is down below at the tunnel entrance with the other children, guarded only by Tomad, the eldest of the youngsters; she must be ready to defend the young group through any means possible. Jiiv, a young adult by tradition, sworn to the creed only a few months prior on his fourteenth birthday, is small in his durasteel and beskar armor. She hates to put the boy through this; were the situation not so dire, he’d be kept away from this, protected until considered a True adult, but needs must.

She pauses at the base of the ladder, grasping her new beskar vibroblade in hand, ready to be used, glances to be sure that the scattered sentries are looking in a different direction, and then pulls herself up the ladder swiftly. Jiiv will follow her when he feels safe to do so, and she cannot wait to be sure he does it correctly; she must clear the Overseer’s lookout at once.

She turns her head as she lifts herself into the room. Three stormtroopers - two by the window only a couple paces away, one standing at the doorway to the catwalks across the room. She considers her options on the fly, and lets her training guide her.

The furthest stormtrooper, the one standing solo. He is facing her and his body is reacting as he registers the sight of her. She fires her climbing piton and it impacts his neck just below the helmet. He lets out a choked gurgle, and she yanks her arm back swiftly, bracing against the pull. She doesn’t wait to confirm that he’s dead, instead swinging on the other two, who are raising their blasters and exclaiming in shock. She’s somewhat hindered by the dragging piton line, but her knife is in her left hand, opposite, and it’s easy to lunge forward and drive it into her second opponent. His armor gives much too easily to her blade.

The third Stormtrooper she misses with her first strike, hindered by pulling the knife out of the previous victim’s chest. This one is recoiling away, trying to get his blaster to bear when there’s no room between them to lift it. Fool. A Mandalorian would squish it to her stomach and fire, but he’s trying for approved stance out of instinct. She doesn’t waste the opportunity, lashing out with a foot and catching him in the thigh with a crash. He squeals.

Savii uses his distraction to her advantage and this time her knife point doesn’t miss; it enters his neck just below his right ear and cuts all the way across to the left with only the barest hint of resistance. A good knife.

She grasps the dead man’s chestplate and dumps him off to the side, wrinkling her nose at the blood that his heart pumps up and out of the gaping smile she’s created in his throat, spraying over her and the floor. He falls like the other two, clattering heavily.

She grasps at her cloak to wipe the foamy blood off her visor, then the rest of her helmet, her _chest,_ and turns to see if Jiiv had made it up the ladder, and feels a bit regretful to see that he has. “How are you?”

“I’m…” he audibly swallows and gags before taking a few deep breaths. “I don’t like this.”

“I’m sorry,” she tells him while wiping her knife clean on her cloak. She’ll have to clean the cape as soon as practicable; blood starts to stink very quickly and it’ll rot in the fabric. “I need you to watch the ladder and doorway there while I’m busy with my scope. Warn me if someone’s coming.”

He nods slowly, glancing towards the bodies. Savii tucks her knife away and puts her hands on his shoulders. “Jiiv, look at me,” When his helmet turns back to her she gently presses her forehead to his in a keldabe kiss. “I need you to focus. Your _buir_ is going to be in the middle of the maintenance yard with no cover. He needs me to protect him. To do that, I need you to protect me. It’s not healthy, but you need to push down what you’re feeling until we’re on that shuttle. As soon as it lifts off, you can cry or scream as much as you need. Understand? Can you do that?”

“Yes Savii,” he promises, controlling the tremor in his voice with obvious effort. “I can do that for you.”

“Good,” she says. “Sit down so no one notices us through the window. I need to set up.”

It takes some effort, but she manages to yank open a window with a good enough view to snipe from. She stretches out on the floor, mentally weighing the pros and cons of using her Farsight or the Amban rifle Hasal had given her. Finally she decides that while the Amban’s psychological effect on enemies is formidable, she may need to shoot fast, and having a laser blaster means not needing to spend time reloading.

She sweeps the maintenance yard with her scope, and then taps the side of her helmet to activate her comm, speaking in Mando’a just in case it is hacked. _“In position. The stormtroopers are everywhere. I see a dozen surrounding the ship alone.”_

 _//“What else,”//_ comes her uncle’s voice in the same tongue. Savii sweeps her barrel slowly, heart dropping the further she looks.

_“Looks like they’re using this place as a barracks, there’s easily a hundred troopers. They’ve repaired the AA cannon like we suspected they would, too.”_

_//“Damn it! Alright, are the doorways we planned to use working?”//_

_“Yes, I see stormtroopers coming and going through them.”_

_//“Good. I’m sending the signal back to the Covert now.”//_

Savii closes her eyes behind her helmet for a couple heartbeats. They’d hoped that maybe they wouldn’t have needed this. That they could slip past the Imperials without the rest of their Tribe revealing themselves to the Enemy. If the Mandalorians stayed hidden in the sewers, they could outlast their enemy, luring them down in small groups and eliminating them. But to swarm free of their hive, they’d be outnumbered, hundreds to dozens. Even Mandalorians could not fight indefinitely. She sends a quiet prayer that the battle will be merciful to her people, that they will not suffer yet another purge.

She suspects that her prayer will do little. She takes a steadying breath and opens her eyes, watching as the Enemies everywhere become aware of the noise of distant gunfire, and then, after a whole minute, receive comms that get them running to a troop transport. Such a slow reaction time; what worthless soldiers. But there’s just so many of them here, and more still out in the town.

 _“They’re moving,”_ she reports. _“Still a dozen around the ship, I can see others in the AA tower. I think there’s a couple in the ship itself too.”_

_//“Noted. Keep eyes on, we’re moving in.”//_

_“Troop transport’s out of the compound, Door’s closed. Go.”_

She sees movement by the gate controls: Copper Beskar’gam; Korm’rk. He swings around a pillar, his knife meeting a Stormtrooper’s neck in one instant, his knee a different Stormtrooper’s groin the next. One of the ship’s guards has spotted him and shouts out, several turning to face the gates, lifting their blasters.

Savii swings her rifle to one of the sentries, centers her crosshair neatly over the scum’s visor, and squeezes her trigger. The stormtrooper drops, and his comrades react in dismay.

 _//”Savii, the Stormtroopers are moving on your position, they tried comming for those you killed,”//_ comes Eyah’s voice in Mando’a over the comms. _//”Be ready.”//_

 _//”We’re moving for the AA tower!”//_ says Satrina’s voice. _//”Korm’rk have the doors yet?”//_

 _”Roger on the incoming, Korm’rk’s setting his charges now,”_ Savii replies, taking another shot at a stormtrooper who is trying to find cover to attack their medic from. She doesn’t look toward her young cousin when she addresses him in basic. “Jiiv, the stormtroopers are moving in on this lookout. I can’t look away from this.”

“Y-yes Savii,” he says. She can hear him shifting his grip on his blaster and adjusting his weight. The next few minutes will be a test of the boy’s _mandokar_. He’s too young, but there is no choice. She hears Paz’s heavy cannon roar to life and smiles to herself as stormtroopers automatically turn from attacking the exposed medic toward the behemoth Mandalorian tucked up behind a wall. Jiiv lets out an involuntary noise of delight, and Savii knows he feels braver knowing his buir is out there.

She can hear booted feet running down the hall towards them, hear them trying to force open the door. She doesn’t have time to look around. Satrina is across the way, leading Ordo and Edii towards the AA emplacement. _“Satrina, at the top of the ladder, three stormtroopers on your left, four on your right.”_

_//”Noted.”//_

An explosion. Savii glances over just long enough to see the gate controls smoking and ruined. She nods once to herself in satisfaction before bringing her scope to bear on one of the stormtroopers she can see in the opposing building’s window who seems more alert than most; he’s moving to take aim down the ladder Satrina is ascending. She kills him with a shot through the chest, his friends react by running to the windows and trying to shoot her.

She hunches up her shoulders, knowing they can’t see exactly where she is. There’s a crash from behind her, shots, and she can’t help but roll, grabbing for her sidearm.

There are two new dead stormtroopers on the floor, Jiiv stands trembling with a smoking blaster. Savii nods once, returning her attention to the battle. “ _Kandosii!_ ”

 _“Vor’e_ ,” Jiiv replies, pride and horror warring in his tone, though his young warrior spirit is winning out for now.

Her distraction has cost the others, and she snarls at herself, but doesn’t waste time with self recriminations. She brings her Farsight up and shoots a stormtrooper that is grappling with Eyah down in the yard. The Young Elder rushes aboard the ship before the ramp can close, Ruusaan hot on his tail.

Paz remains outside the ship, his heavy cannon roaring away as he keeps himself pressed to the hull for what cover it provides. For the moment now, he is well, and Savii cannot help the two within the shuttle. Her attention scans quickly for Satrina’s group and she finds them holding their own across the way, though they are heavily outnumbered; the Stormtroopers well-fortified in the AA bunker. She takes a shot through the far window, and another Stormtrooper falls. The moment’s consternation among the enemy lets her scan for Korm’rk, and she sees him tucked safely up amongst some crates, waiting for his chance to run to Paz’s side. He appears uninjured, so Savii’s attention returns back to the three aiming for the AA.

Someone is climbing the ladder behind her. She doesn’t turn again. She has to trust her teenage cousin to handle it. One shot and the sound of a body impacting the ground below. She squeezes her trigger, taking out a stormtrooper who had been moving to strike at Edii’s head. The trio in the opposite building advances.

 _//”I have control of the ship,”//_ Eyah’s voice reports over the comms. _//”She’s already turned on, what’s the status of the AA canon?”//_

 _//“Setting charges now,”//_ replies Satrina tersely, blaster fire in the background. Savii can’t see him wherever he is in the AA emplacement. The elevated bunker has only small windows and he must be well within. Only Edii is visible to her, covering the entrance as stormtroopers start to swarm in there.

 _“There’s maybe twenty troopers storming the AA bunker, you guys have to move!”_ Savii reports anxiously. As defensible a location as it is, three cannot hold it against twenty for long, considering the damn chamber is about to _explode_.

 _//“Help us out, Savii!”//_ Ordo shouts back, a strain in his voice that says he’s been injured. Savii curses, taking shots whenever she has a good target. stormtroopers rarely hesitate for long when a comrade falls, they don’t generally freeze up despite their lack of other skill. She can see Korm’rk leaping out from his cover to dart toward the sewer entrance; running to check on the children.

Savii tosses aside her Farsight and takes up the fearsome Amban Rifle. She loads it and takes aim. Hit, though sloppy. It punches right through plastoid armor and there is nothing left but the plates clattering to the ground. This makes all the stormtroopers who witnessed it lock up in horror for a long moment. Savii loads the next round in half a second and aims at a trooper’s torso. She fires. The Stormtrooper formations break up some as dismay overcomes them. She sees Edii tackle a stormtrooper with her knife bared. Savii’s next shot isn’t at a trooper, but at a fire suppression device she can see hanging off the wall. 

The pressurized canister explodes with the force of the disintegration rifle’s blast, knocking a handful of the enemy down. She reloads again, sweeping her barrel to shoot-There is Satrina, grappling the man she was about to squeeze the trigger on! She cannot risk the shot-

The explosion from the AA bunker shakes the ground and smoke issues up from the gunports and fills the glass hallway across from her. She cannot see clearly enough to take a shot with the Amban. There, _Movement!_ Edii pushes herself to her feet, shaking off her daze easily. Instead of fleeing for the exit, she turns to look over her shoulder and runs into the ruined bunker.

Savii is fumbling for her Farsight again, needing the laser gun for fear of accidentally hitting another Mandalorian in the smoke and chaos across the way. Beskar would reflect a laser blast, but the Amban would kill. She brings her scope up in time to save Satrina from being kicked as he stumbles to his feet and then collapses, clearly rattled by the explosion.

Her heart drops to see a form dragging another person by the armpits out of the billowing smoke. Stormtroopers wouldn’t bother. It has to be Edii with Ordo. He was still in the AA bunker when the charges went off. Savii shoots and shoots, picking off the stormtroopers in order of which are recovering the quickest.

Paz’s heavy cannon spins up again, and Savii hears him give the order over comms for Korm’rk to bring the kids to the ship. Savii can see it’s engines powering up. There’s a yelp behind her in a man’s voice, a snarl from Jiiv; she doesn’t turn, covering Edii and Satrina as the former drags Ordo’s still form to the exit and the latter stumbles drunkenly after her.

 _“Uncle, you need to get to the AA ladder, Satrina and Ordo can’t make it down without help!”_ Savii comms.

The firing of the heavy cannon eases off, she sees Tomad leading the other children across the yard, their heads down, Korm’rk at the back of the line urging them along. Her scope sweeps, looking for more stormtroopers, but they’re all dead, or faking, which is good enough. Eyah and Ruusaan are visible in the ship’s cockpit, doing preflight checks as quickly as safety allows. She sweeps back over the AA building and there is Paz at the bottom of the ladder, reaching up to take Ordo as Edii carefully maneuvers him down.

The man is nothing but dead weight as Paz carefully supports him. Though her scope, Savii can see the blood dripping from under the rim of his helmet. She swallows wetly and forcibly turns her attention to sweeping the perimeter. “Any more Stormtroopers coming down the hall, Jiiv?”

“No, Savii,” comes the boy’s voice, pride evident. She is proud of him and despairing for him all at once. The bad thoughts, the distress at what he has done will come later when he’s had time to think. But he hasn’t frozen through this fight, it is good.

“Good. Keep watch a bit longer, we’ll be the last onto the ship,” she tells him, watching through her scope as Paz carefully sets Ordo down on the ground then reaches up to take Satrina. In comparison to the other injured man, Satrina clings to Paz’s arm, and when set down, he tries to stand on his two feet. Paz supports him until Edii has descended the ladder, and then she ducks under Satrina’s arm, supporting him and dragging him towards the ship. Paz carefully picks up Ordo, who twitches, one hand slowly clenching into a fist.

“Time to go,” she decides, pulling herself to her feet and gathering up both long rifles. There are a few stormtroopers still scattered around the maintenance yard, pressed up in cover, too afraid to try and shoot at them, and other than herself and her cousin, everyone is mere paces away from safety. “Jiiv, down the ladder.”

“Yes!” He says, scrambling. Savii sees him swing around to drop to the ground from the ladder-port, and waits to hear him land. She winces at the clatter and yelp that indicates he didn’t make it a smooth jump. She peeks down to see the results: Jiiv sprawled on the ground, having landed half on a dead enemy and either rolled or broken his left ankle on impact. She snarls internally, swinging down the ladder and landing smoothly at his side.

“Get up.”

“I-I can’t- it hurts.”

It’s not a moment to be gentle; the Maintenance yard is presently empty, but Savii knows how easily more enemies might swarm them. There is banging at the gate, the glow of a high-powered welding laser burning away at the metal. Ahead of them, her uncle, Jiiv’s father, is hurrying aboard the shuttle, Edii is standing at the ramp, waving to them. Savii grabs the boy’s left wrist and jerks him to his feet, slinging the arm over her shoulders. “ _K’atini,_ Jiiv!”

He cries out in pain, and the fact that she is the cause of it will haunt her if she survives this. She puts her right arm around his waist and drags him towards the ship. “Cry when we get there, cousin. We need to go!”

He whimpers, but pushes his good foot in time with her paces, and they make the shuttle, Edii grabbing at Jiiv’s other arm and between the two women, the boy’s legs are wholly relieved of the weight of his body, and his pained noises subside. 

“All in!” Edii shouts. The shuttle lifts off while the ramp is still closing. The motion causes them to lose balance and spill Jiiv to the floor. Savii drops to her knees beside her cousin as he whimpers in pain. She squeezes his shoulder before moving to check his ankle.

“You did good, Ad’ika, I’m proud of you,” she says, pulling off his boot and her gloves. He lets out a pained moan as she feels the joint. “It’s not broken, but it’ll hurt for a time. Don’t move too much.”

“O-Okay…” He whimpers. Savii nods, then looks around when she hears clattering, realizing the lower cargo bay is chaos. Raela, Ordo’s daughter is wailing, being held back by Paz. Korm’rk is ripping Ordo’s armor off his body, slicing open his clothes. The Medic’s hands are bare. Tomad is sitting in the corner with the remaining children gathered as close to him as possible and staring at the scene.

Satrina is collapsed against the wall, unattended as Paz tries to get Ordo’s daughter settled. Savii’s heart breaks in understanding for the little seven-year-old. Ordo Found her three years ago with her mother; an escaped slave. He’d promised the dying woman that he would cherish and protect Raela as his own, and raise her to be strong. The malnourished little thing had screamed and raged in his arms when he’d taken her away from her mother’s body, and taken months to trust him. But she’d been worth every second, Savii had heard him telling her that in a tender voice.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! _DADDY_!” Raela kicks and fights against Paz’s grip on her arms, struggling to get to where Korm’rk is jamming some kind of syringe into Ordo’s flesh. The prone Mandalorian twitches slightly and Korm’rk snarls.

“Take her out!”

Savii pat’s Jiiv’s shoulder and moves to help her uncle restrain the wailing child. “Raela, Korm’rk needs to focus, he’s helping your buir.”

“Let me go! _Daddy!_ ” Raela’s wails become all too much, and two-year-old Thal starts bawling his little eyes out in Tomad’s arms. The teenager becomes occupied trying to soothe his baby brother, so much that he loses track of his little sister, and Vidri runs to Satrina, who is coughing and dribbling blood down his chin.

“Bu!” She says, tugging his arm. “Bu, are you okay?”

“I’m… I’m fine, Cy-ika,” Satrina slurs. Tomad’s head swings around to stare at his father and he struggles to his feet.

“Dad!?”

“OUT!” Korm’rk roars. “All children out of this room NOW.”

Shocked silence follows his outburst. Korm’rk is one of the gentlest of the Covert, no one’s ever heard him raise his voice outside of play. Even Raela sniffles quietly instead of screaming. Savii takes the opportunity to herd the girl to the ladder to the upper level. “Come on, Little ones, Korm’rk needs room to help Ordo and Satrina. Why don’t you go up top and get seated in case Eyah and Ruusaan make some fancy maneuvers?”

“But… but Daddy,” whimpers Raela, undeterred.

“Let’s go,” says Paz, boosting the girl up easily, pushing her through the open hatch. She whimpers, but then Tomad is being sent up after her, Paz handing up first Vidri, and then tiny Thal. The other children are boosted up the ladder, the ship jolting when Edii hurriedly hugs her two, and she gasps in surprise, gripping them tight and twisting so she’s bounced off the wall painfully instead of them.

Then Paz is boosting them to the upper deck as well. Zari’s helmet is missing, Savii notes dully, and she moves to him, pressing her forehead to his. “You’re being very brave, Vod’ika. Keep being brave for Tomad and Raela, okay?”

He nodded mutely, tears dripping out of his dark eyes before reaching out for Paz to lift him. Finally, all that’s left is Jiiv, and Paz gathers up his eldest and holds him a long moment, speaking to him comfortingly. Jiiv trembles in his father’s hold.

All of a sudden, Satrina slumps over sideways, pink foamy blood spilling down his chin. Savii gasps, darting to him. “Korm’rk!”

The medic looks up to see his husband and lets out a horrible noise of denial. He glances down at Ordo, then up at Satrina. There is a momentary flicker in his posture, and he stands up. “Savii, Edii, chest compressions on Ordo. Share breath, try anything.”

He leaves Ordo to tend his husband, and Savii already knows that Korm’rk has been trying to work a miracle this entire time, and only when presented with one still living who might be saved has he given up. But he’s asked her to try, so she will.

She kneels at Ordo’s side and pumps at his chest in a steady beat with crossed hands. Edii kneels at the man’s head and tilts his head back, reaching to remove her own gloves. Savii is aware out of the corner of her eye, but her focus has narrowed to the pumping of her hands on Ordo’s chest, trying desperately to save him. Then the ship jolts violently and she falls away from him.

By the time Savii has righted herself, she sees Paz clinging to the ladder to the upper deck. He hauls himself up, and she can hear his voice as demands an update from Ruusaan and Eyah. She glances towards Ordo and sees that Edii has taken her place at chest compressions. She hears Eyah shout out “TIE fighter!” and her blood runs cold.

What can she do but carry on? She scrambles back to Ordo’s side, hesitating a long moment over what to do, and then…

She drags her headscarf off the back of her helmet, dropping it without care, then off comes the beskar mail and leather that protect her spiked lekku. She pulls at Ordo’s collar as Edii continues to pump his chest, and then carefully clasps her hands on Ordo’s helmet, lifting it just enough to expose his jaw.

The fact that he doesn’t so much as twitch in response tells her enough, but she _has_ to hope, so she leans over to try and find breath, one lek, more sensitive than her fingers, draping itself over his throat and curling slightly on his Adam’s apple, feeling for a pulse even as she listens desperately at the man’s lips, hoping to hear a gasp. But he is dead, no matter how hard Edii tries to push his heart back to life. His blood is lazily spilling out of his helmet and pooling across the floor below them. She lifts herself and switches places with Edii anyway.

They are jolted yet again, the ship perhaps diving, and Savii manages to brace herself this time, though her rhythm on Ordo’s chest falters. She snarls in frustration, looking up to see Korm’rk has dragged Satrina’s helmet off, and hurriedly looks away. It hits her all at once; A medic can pull off another Mandalorian’s helmet if he thinks it will save them. Ordo is dead, and Korm’rk can’t bear to give up on him, but the fact that he left the man’s helmet on says it all. “Korm’rk…”

Her tone has him look to her, and he lets out a terrible, empty sigh. “You can stop.”

Savii sits up and gently presses Ordo’s helmet back into place. She is numb to his passing. Grief will come later. She reaches across Ordo’s body and clasps hands with Edii, who returns her squeeze. The two women are merely acquaintances, but for a moment, all they have is each other. Edii takes a long breath and then turns to Korm’rk, head tilted to indicate that she is not looking at Satrina, but needs Must.

“What can we do to help?”

Savii is suddenly aware of blood dripping down Edii’s arms. She did not escape the explosion unharmed after all, though she has not mentioned her own injuries in the chaos. Korm’rk doesn’t spare her a glance, not when Satrina is in his arms, struggling to live.

“Look for medical supplies in this damned can,” he says. “Make sure the kids aren’t hurt.”

“Jiiv twisted his ankle and I think a couple of them have scrapes,” Savii tells him, pulling her small medkit off her belt and putting it by Korm’rk’s supplies. “Nothing serious.”

“Good,” says Satrina quietly. “That’s good…Korm’rk-”

“Don’t you dare start,” Korm’rk snarls at his husband. “You’re not allowed to leave me with three children, maybe four, because Raela needs someone to take her in now. You’ll live because you’re a stubborn bastard and because I’m telling you to.”

The doctor yanks the red bandana off his elbow, and Savii watches a moment as Korm’rk uses it to wipe blood off Satrina’s neck and chin. Then she pushes to her feet, grasping at Edii’s hand to help the other woman up, though the ship rocks sharply.

Satrina lets out a weak noise that might be a laugh, but he submits to Korm’rk’s care as Savii and Edii haul themselves to the upper deck. Tomad is laid out on the floor, his helmet thrown across the bay, face buried in his arms as he sobs; Savii pretends not to see the heresy out of respect for the teenager’s grief. Paz’s arms are full with his two youngest and Raela, Jiiv leaned up at his side and sniffling miserably. It is Zari now who has taken responsibility as Eldest Child, alongside nine-year-old Arivi, who brightens to see her mother. Edii wraps her arms around her daughter and strokes her hair comfortingly before sending the little one back to what she was doing with gentle praise. Edii then wraps her arms around her younger son and speaks soothingly, reassuring him that her injuries are just scratches.

 _Hardly,_ Savii thinks, but they’re clearly not going to be fatal as long as they’re tended in the next few hours, so they will have to wait. She stumbles to the cockpit to see that they are breaching the Upper atmosphere, Eyah quietly cursing the ship’s lack of weapons as laser fire dances around them. The fingers of the Elder’s right glove are worn through, she realizes suddenly, watching as sparks dance when he grinds his digits into the navpanel. His fingers are all metal; his right hand, possibly more, is a prosthetic. She hadn’t known that. It’s easier to focus on than the fact that if that TIE fighter gets within proper range, they have almost no shields to stop it from killing them all.

“Almost far enough for a hyper jump, calculations?” asks Ruusaan smoothly, as if this were a routine flight, living up to her name of _Reliable One_.

Eyah snarls. “Tatooine, because they’ll kill any Imps stupid enough to follow us. Five seconds.”

The ship jolts- _hit!_ Savii braces in the doorway, looking around.

“Three,” Says Ruusaan, still cool. “Two…”

Eyah throws the switch. The view through the transparisteel windows turns to streaks of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandokar - the *right stuff*, the epitome of Mando virtue - a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty and a lust for life  
> Kandosii! - Nice one!/ Wicked!/ Well Done!  
> Vor’e -Thanks!  
> K’atini! - Suck it up! (It’s only pain)  
> Buyce- Helmet


	3. Breathe In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one gonna comment on the fact that a 14 year old killed like five men and had to run on a sprained ankle last chapter? No? 
> 
> Anyway, the ship they stole is very similar visually to the Imperial Cargo Shuttle from Rogue One. The interior is more open, Cockpit and upper cargo deck are the same level, then there's the lower cargo deck, both are open with no doors except between cockpit and upper cargo hold and a ladder between the floors.

So rewatching Episode 3, I realized that I’d actually based my mental image of a couple characters off actual Mandalorians on the show. [Click here to see them.](https://tvlovesfandom.tumblr.com/post/190428425695/mandalorian-faceclaims)

* * *

* * *

Savii is tucked up against the wall of the ship, legs bent in front of her, arms up over her helmet. She can’t exactly schedule a breakdown, but she needs a few minutes to herself before she can face what has to happen.

She closes her eyes and remembers her  _ buir’s _ voice, speaking to her, teaching her to settle herself in the moments between battles. She takes slow breaths, calming her racing heart. She wants to curl up and be alone. But she is needed.

_ Get up. Move. Go check on the children. Get up, it’s only pain and not even physical. GET UP. _

A small body presses to her side and she jumps, not having heard the approach. She looks down to see her baby brother, his big dark eyes watching her. He’s been crying. She sighs and wraps an arm around him, pulling him close and leaning over to press her armored forehead against his bare one. “Hey, Vod’ika.”

“Buir’s not gonna ever come to the new Covert, are they?” he asks timidly. Savii bows her head, thinking on it. Zari reaches up to grab at where her cape wraps around her neck. “Savii  _ please. _ ”

“I don’t know, Zari,” she answers tiredly. “But they wouldn’t let me stay behind at the Covert. I Found you, but they were Buir. They should’ve taken you to safety, not me.”

“Why did they do that? I want them here! They shouldn’t be back there in the tunnels fighting against the stormtroopers until they’re swarmed,” He whimpers, agitated. Savii sighs quietly.

“If they went with you, then I’d still be in the tunnels and they didn’t want to leave me behind. I guess they decided my life was worth more than theirs…”

Zari falls silent at that, looking up at Savii, then down at his feet. He snuggles in close to her with a little sob. “I don’t want you to die either, Savii… but I want Buir back…”

“Me too.”

* * *

  
  


She sighs, shifting to stroking her little brother’s head. “Where’s your helmet?”

Zari looks away. “I dropped it when we were running to the ship. I-I’m sorry Ori’vod.”

“It’ll be a while before we can replace it, you might have to wait until your fourteenth birthday,” she tells him gently. “We have no armorer. Alor was our only.”

Zari winces, tucking his head between his knees. “I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” she tells him gently, running her fingers through his hair. “Apologize to yourself. You know what it means to lose your  _ buyce _ . If you were a bit older…”

“I shouldn’t’ve taken it off, but my nose was itchy and-”

“Mmm.”

“Please don’t be mad,  _ Ori’vod. _ ”

“I’m not… mad,” she says with a sigh. “I’m not… I’m not anything right now, Zari. It’s not your fault, it’s everything that’s happened, my brain and feelings are catching up to it all.”

“Oh…” he says, burying his face against her arm. Savii wraps it around him and places her chin over his head, letting him hide against her for a while. They sit in silence together, minutes blurring together until Ruusaan gets up from the cockpit and goes to check on her son. Savii sighs, shifting.

“I should move around… check on Jiiv. I yelled at him earlier.”

“Is Ordo okay?” Zari asks her quietly. Savii looks down at him and lets out a low noise.

“No, little brother, he didn’t make it. He’s part of the Manda now.”

Zari hugs her tightly, sniffling, but then lets her go. “Can I go… help Korm’rk?”

“No, I don’t think it’d be a good idea,” she says, remembering how bad Satrina had looked. He hadn’t been bleeding out the ears, though, which is a positive sign. She looks down at her little brother, then up to see what everyone else is doing. Raela has dragged herself away from Paz and is curled up in a tight ball. “Why don’t you see if you can give Raela a hug? Or let her scream if she needs to. Stop her if she tries to hit though.”

There is a nod of understanding, Zari pushing himself to his feet. Savii smiles at him under her mask, then sighs, pushing herself up and moving to do a round of the ship. Her uncle is wrapping Jiiv’s injured leg, and she walks over to check on them. Jiiv looks up at her, his mask a little askew. She reaches out to adjusts it back into place.

“Thank you for protecting me while I was sniping,” she tells him. “You did really well, I’m sorry for shouting at you and hurting you. It was a bad situation.”

“I know,” he says, wincing as his father pulls the medical bandage tight. “I don’t want to do that again.”

“Me neither,” Savii says, kneeling down to help hold his leg so Paz can finish up more quickly. “You proved yourself  _ Mandokarla _ though. Was it five or six kills?”

“I… don’t remember,” he whispers.

“That’s alright, ad’ika,” Paz rumbles, carefully releasing Jiiv’s leg now that he’s done bandaging it. Savii helps the lad sit up. “You did good, I’m very proud of you, but I’m sorry we had to put you in that position.”

“Thank you buir,” Jiiv pulls himself into his father’s lap and nestles against the big man’s chest plate like a little child, not the teenager he is. “I forgive you… I forgive you both. It had to happen.”

“Yes, but it’s still not right,” Paz tells him. Jiiv nods quietly.

“Thank you,” Savii says for the forgiveness.

“What’ll happen with Tomad?” Jiiv asks, turning to look over his shoulder. Savii follows his gaze to see that the older lad has retrieved his helmet from where it’d been thrown, and is sitting curled up, staring into his helmet’s T-visor. “He took his  _ buyce _ off. I thought he was trying to break it.”

Paz sighs. “I’ll talk to him in a bit. Tomad shouldn’t have done that, but… well. We’re all a family now.”

“What if he doesn’t want to put it back on?” Jiiv whispers fearfully. Savii knows the two teens are the best of friends, and she understands the fear that her cousin feels at the idea of Tomad giving up the Creed and leaving. It isn’t unheard of. Not all Mandalorian-raised children became Mandalorians themselves. A handful of her own childhood friends had simply walked away during their teenage years, leaving behind their beskar and the ruins of Mandalorian civilization. Adults sometimes gave up their Creed when the life became too much. More Mandalorians had been lost in The Purge than had just died.

She pushes to her feet. The ship is too small for pacing, but she needs to Move. “I’m going to check on Eyah and see what’s in some of the cargo crates.”

“Right,” murmurs her uncle, reaching out to where Uba and Cedki are curled around each other, sleeping restlessly. He carefully gathers his two younger children up into his arms with Jiiv, and the boy hugs his siblings.

Eyah is fine in the cockpit, and though he doesn’t need to remain at the pilot’s seat in hyperspace, he indicates that he’s alright where he is for now. Savii takes the hint and leaves him be, looking around the upper hold to take stock of where everyone is. Most of the kids are asleep, though Zari is still soothing Raela. The girl is clinging to Savii’s little brother, crying. To Savii’s surprise, Ruusaan’s little boy, Nkui, is pressed up against the pair, and his mother is clearly watching over the small group. Ruusaan glances up as if sensing Savii’s gaze, and the two women share a nod.

Vidri and Thal are collapsed over Ruusaan’s lap, seeking comfort from her while they can’t find it from either father or their much older brother. Savii hopes for their sake that Satrina recovers, that Tomad puts his mask back on. She suspects that if Satrina doesn’t survive, the little ones will lose their elder brother too.

She gestures to Ruusaan to ask if the other needs help, and Ruusaan indicates a negative. Savii nods and goes to check on Edii, who is methodically trying to remove her right Vambrace without disturbing her two children. Edii looks up and holds out the arm to Savii without speaking. Savii nods, unclipping the armor for the other woman and crouching down to roll up the sleeve, mindful not to touch a bleeding injury she can see through the fabric.

When she has the other woman’s sleeve out of the way, she inspects the injury and hisses softly. “Shrapnel,” she says softly. “Korm’rk has my medkit.”

“Thought there’d be something in there,” Edii sighs. “Something got me in the back of the neck too, but my cowl caught the worst of it.”

Her voice is low enough not to disturb the children. Savii nods her understanding. “I’ll pass that on to Korm’rk when he’s… not occupied.”

She peeks around the back of Edii’s neck when the woman leans forward, her gloves are still tucked into her belt, so she runs her fingers carefully along the piece of metal she finds embedded in Edii’s cowl, before pulling on it. “Didn’t get to your skin.”

“Oh good,” Edii looks at the hunk of steel Savii has retrieved. “That would not have been pleasant in my neck.”

“Mhmm.” Savii stands up. “I’ll go and… check the lower level.”

“We might be able to stack some crates for privacy barriers,” Edii murmurs. “Or… I noticed there’s some curtains here,” She nods at a bunched tarp that is strapped to the wall. “I suppose to separate different kinds of cargo. See if there’s something similar downstairs.”

“Good idea,” Savii says, moving to the ladder. She descends it quietly, staying focused on the placement of her hands. There’s a grunt near the back of the hold.

“What is it?”

“Coming to see if you needed help.”

A pause, then Korm’rk sighs. “Yeah, come help me move Satrina. I found a matress. This ship wasn’t set up for long hauls.”

Savii nods, turning towards the Medic finally. Satrina is stretched out, chest stripped bare and his cape tucked up under his head as a makeshift pillow. His helmet is tucked up beside his arm. Korm’rk picks it up, thumb tracing over the damaged paint on the left side of the T-visor.

“Can you… lift his legs for me?” he asks. “It’s medical, it’s fine.”

She nods, approaching slowly. Just because it’s okay that the man is unmasked doesn’t mean she wanted to or should see Satrina’s face, so her eyes stay on his feet as she approaches. She leans over, grasping Satrina’s knees securely and lifting at Korm’rks word when he has his husband’s arms. They carefully lift him onto the thin mattress. Once he’s arranged comfortably, Korm’rk picks up his husband’s helmet and carefully places it under Satrina’s arm again.

“How is he?” Savii asks, turning her head to look at the wall and spotting one of the big cargo tarps Edii had pointed out.

“He’ll…” Korm’rk sighs. “He’ll live as long as the bacta and antibiotics do their job. There’s still a lot of risk, but I think he’ll pull through.”

“I’m glad,” she tells him, moving to unfurl the tarp. Korm’rk watches her as she discovers that it’s hung on a rail on the ceiling, and pulls it across the width of the room, creating a small space in which Satrina is hidden from view. “Should I leave this here?”

“Yeah it’s… it’s good,” says Korm’rk, poking around the side of the tarp. “There’s room for me and the kids in here too. I’ve barely thought about them, fuck.”

“You’ve been… busy,” Savii’s eyes find Ordo’s body, and she notices that Korm’rk has removed his cape, rolling it up and setting it aside, and bound the dead man’s body into the fetal position with the grappling wire from Ordo’s vambrace. Korm’rk lets out a tired huff of air.

“Yes, but still. Are they okay?”

Savii hesitates. It’s the wrong thing to do; Korm’rk heads straight for the ladder. Savii grabs at his shoulder to stop him. “Wait! Listen. Ruusaan is comforting your two youngest and Tomad… he…” 

“Savii, if you’re telling me my child is hurt and I didn’t know-”

“He took off his helmet.”

Korm’rk freezes. “What.”

It is a denial, not a question. Savii grimaces. “He took it off, Jiiv said he threw it. He has it now, but he’s not wearing it. No one’s said anything to him that I know of, but Ba’vod’u says he will. He said we’re all a family now.”

“That’s kind of him,” says Korm’rk, slumping forward against the ladder. “ _ Manda. _ ”

“Tomad’s fifteen, there’s a reason we re-swear the Creed when we become adults,” Savii tells him, trying to be comforting. “I can’t fault him right now… I don’t think anyone can.”

“Savii…”

“It doesn’t mean that he wants to-”

“Savii.” he says with a low growl. Savii steps back from the doctor. “Thank you for telling me. I might not’ve reacted well if I saw that without warning. It’s Tomad’s choice though, not mine.”

She nods quietly. “Uhm… Edii has some shrapnel injuries, nothing life-threatening, but she’s got her kids in her lap now.”

Korm’rk pauses again, gripping at the ladder and letting out a long sigh. “Okay… Thank you. I should tend to her.”

He moves away from the ladder to collect up his kit, and Savii moves to Ordo’s body, gently touching the corpse’s shoulder. She reaches for the cape Korm’rk has folded up, intending to wrap it around the body as is normally done when a pyre can’t happen immediately.

“Don’t,” says the medic. Savii glances over her shoulder see him watching her. “It’s for Raela; it’s not too messy and it’ll still smell like him. It’ll be some comfort.”

She looks down at the bundle of fabric in her hands, and then nods, tucking it up under her arm. “Do you want me to keep an eye on Satrina for you?”

He pauses a long moment. “No, he’ll keep. I’ve done what I can for him now. His right lung was punctured, but he got lucky. I’ve got a one-way stent in to get the air out of his chest cavity, and I had some bacta. I need a good medical bay though, the sooner the better. But… Maybe if you can get Edii to come down here instead? I don’t want the kids watching it if they don’t have to. They’ve been through enough today.”

Savii nods, heading for the ladder and climbing up it, keeping a careful grip on Ordo’s cape. She finds that things have shifted a little in the time she was in the lower level, and moves carefully over to Ruusaan, who now has her own son and Raela in her lap in addition to Korm’rk and Satrina’s little ones. Raela is asleep, her little face lined with her upsetting day. Zari, it transpires, has moved down to the end of the ship to sleep with their cousins. Paz is kneeling by Tomad, the boy clutching his helmet to his chest with wild eyes.

Savii quietly spreads Ordo’s cape over the little girl, and Ruusaan lets out a small, regretful noise. Savii looks up at her and nods her agreement before standing and moving to Edii.

“Korm’rk is ready for you,” she says to the other woman. “Do you want me to watch Arivi and Kaedo?”

“Thank you,” says Edii, gently rousing her children. “I’m going to get my scratches tended, babies, Auntie Savii is going to stay with you while I go see Korm’rk, okay?”

There’s a tired mumble from the younger child as Savii gently lifts him off his mother’s legs. Edii stands stiffly and moves to the ladder. Savii settles down, rubbing small circles on Kaedo’s back until he settles down and closes his eyes. The pressure of the small bodies against her legs is comforting, and Savii closes her eyes, drained.

* * *

A horrible keen of denial and despair startles Savii awake. She looks around wildly to see Raela wide awake, clutching her father’s cape. Korm’rk is kneeling in front of her, hands on her shoulders. Savii looks around, seeing everyone in the upper level awake and watching in various states of startled. Arivi and Kaedo are in positions that Savii realizes mean that she threw them off when jolting to awareness. She slowly settles back down, reaching to check on them. Edii is at her side, picking up her son. Neither child seems to mind too much, though, watching as Korm’rk tries talking to Raela, who is bawling and rocking in place, Ordo’s cape pressed tight to her chest.

Children her age shouldn’t understand so keenly what it means when a parent dies, but she lost her everything once already, and this is a fresh wound where she should’ve been more powerfully shielded. A child taken in by Mandalorians would think themself safe among the invulnerable, until that belief was shattered irreparably. Out of the corner of her eye, Savii can see Uba burying her face against Paz’s hip.

Korm’rk tries to soothe Raela by patting her head, but she jerks away and curls up against the wall. It is Ruusaan who grasps the grieving child and pulls her close, wiping away snot and tears with her own cape so they don’t mar the last thing of her father that Raela has. Then Ruusaan lets out a high keening note of grief, the start of a funerary song rarely heard since the Night of a Thousand Tears created such bloodshed that surviving Mandalorians could not find words nor voices strong enough to express their despair.

Raela is startled into silence for a long moment, staring up at Ruusaan with wide, tear-stained eyes. Savii joins her voice to Ruusaan’s, though she can’t match the natural beauty of Ruusaan’s singing voice. She doesn’t know the words, only the tune, but when Korm’rk and Paz join her in vocalizing the part that had once been filled by flutes, it’s good enough. It does not echo back to them in a canyon, or thrum across an open plain, but it is Enough. Eyah, still in the cockpit, adds his voice to the lyrics Ruusaan haltingly brings forth. Edii too, starts to sing, and maybe it’s the words, or the heartbreaking way they’re sung, but it makes Raela break down again.

She clings to Ruusaan and wails, but with a new note. She is not grieving alone now, and in her sobs, she seeks out comfort, knowing that she isn’t by herself in her suffering. There are others who will hold her and care for her, share her burden of adjusting to a new life without Ordo. She hides her face against Ruusaan’s leg. Savii’s eyes flick around to the other children, who have never heard this song, and finds them wide eyed and in awe, or their faces buried in their hands, tears falling silently.

The song is meant to evoke emotion, draw the pain to the surface and release it at once among others. It burns in her chest, but it is cathartic. She sings for Ordo, lost trying to bring his child to safety. She sings for her Buir back on Nevarro, fighting for them. She sings for the Tribe, which she may never see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buyce- Helmet  
> Buir- Parent  
> Vod’ika- Little brother/Little sister  
> Ori’vod- Big brother/big sister
> 
> Next chapter is already written, it'll be out in a day or two.


	4. Breathe Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of drug use in this chapter, though the Mandalorians are quite disgusted by the concept.
> 
> Gonna put the mando'a translations before and after each chapter now, let me know if you think it works better.
> 
> Buyce- Helmet  
> Buir- Parent  
> Vod’ika- Little brother/Little sister  
> Ori’vod- Big brother/big sister  
> Su cuy’gar- You’re still alive (Common Mandalorian “Hello”)  
> Cin Vhetin- fresh start, clean slate - lit. white field, virgin snow - term indicating the erasing of a person's past when they become Mandalorian, and that they will only be judged by what they do from that point onwards; like the *first turn of the screw cancels all debts* for sailors.  
> Alor - Commander/Chief/Boss/Leader (Situation specific)  
> Lek- Yeah (Informal)  
> Cyare-beloved  
> Ner Kar’ta- My Heart

The song ends, and the ship is silent but for the thrum of life support. Raela sniffles quietly, burying her face in her father’s empty cape. Savii can not reach up to wipe her own eyes through her helmet, so she gives herself a little shake so they spill off her cheeks.

Korm’rk moves to check on his children, leaning over and speaking to Tomad, who curls up and tucks his head between his knees, one hand clutching his helmet, the other pulling his own hair. Then the medic grips his son’s shoulder, speaking to him softly. For want of something to do, Savii opens a crate at random to look inside.

“Huh.”

“Interesting contents?” Asks Edii.

“Stim kits…” Savii picks one up and opens it to inspect the label. “This is… oh, that’s disgusting. They boost themselves with this!? No wonder they can’t aim, their hands must shake worse than a stormblown tree!”

“Not surprising,” Eyah comments, exiting the cockpit with a distinctive limp. “They started stimming soldiers in the Clone Wars and when the Empire took over, they didn’t stop despite the fact they were working with regular people, not bio engineered supersoldiers.”

Korm’rk stands up from Tomad and peeks at the label, scoffing in disgust. “They aren’t all like that, are they? What else is in the crates?”

“I’ll try and dig up the manifest,” Eyah promises, sitting heavily and inspecting his leg with his hands. Seemingly satisfied by his inspection, he curls the knee under him. “Five more hours until Tatooine. We should discuss our plan for getting this ship replaced by a clean one right away.”

“Agreed,” says Paz, looking around at the group. “Korm’rk, how is Satrina doing?”

There’s a pause, everyone looking to the Doctor, and then glancing at his eldest child. Tomad remains frozen in place, and Savii registers that the boy has put his helmet back on. _Good._ Korm’rk takes a long moment to respond as if he’s gathering his thoughts.

“Punctured lung from shrapnel. Not too big, some air got into his chest cavity… but I managed to get that dealt with. He won’t die, but I need a proper medical bay with good scanners to get a better look at the wound at least. It’s not something field medicine alone can fix. I’d have rathered broken bones.”

There’s a shaky exhale from Tomad. Korm’rk ruffles at Vidri’s hair soothingly before speaking to his kids. “Let’s go see Bu together now, okay? He should wake up from his sedation soon and you can talk to him a bit before the grown-ups have to have a boring planning session.”

“Da!” says the youngest child insistently. Korm’rk picks him up and the boy nestles under his chin against the bare skin of his neck. Savii watches the family descend down the ladder carefully, and hopes Korm’rk covered Ordo’s body.

Of course he did, she tells herself, Korm’rk’s a professional.

* * *

When the medic’s children have satisfied themselves that their other father is not about to die horribly, they are sent back up to the upper deck of the ship. Eyah’s been working on something on the cockpit, and Tomad is sat down in one of the pilot’s seats and told to make sure none of the others decide to push buttons while the adults are talking. It’s not really a necessary job, but Savii figures that it’s more to give the boy space.

Savii slides down the ladder to find that Korm’rk has ripped one of the cargo curtains off the wall and has it wrapped around Ordo’s body like a shroud, and he’s folded the curtain that was being used for privacy for Satrina so the other man can see into the rest of the hold. Satrina is propped against the wall, his helmet on, Korm’rk’s cape covering his upper body.

“ _Su cuy’gar,_ ” she says to him. Satrina rasps out a weak laugh, which she counts as a win.

She moves to crouch on her haunches as Korm’rk returns to his husband’s side, settling down beside him and pulling off the improvised blanket to check Satrina’s chest. Savii grimaces to see the ugly wound, though Korm’rk has clearly cleaned it as best he could. It shimmers with living bacta, and she can see the wound coagulating and scabbing over with unnatural speed. It will still take time, and without the right equipment, it could heal wrong. After performing a quick check, Korm’rk covers his husband again.

There’s a light clang and Savii looks over to see Ruusaan at the bottom of the ladder. The other woman moves across the bay to sit as well. It takes only a couple minutes for all the adults to assemble, sitting or crouching on the floor in a tight circle, their shoulders knocking together occasionally. Only Satrina is given more room, out of respect for his injuries. Savii has her uncle on her left and Edii on her right. She looks around at all of them, the tired set of their shoulders, the way everyone holds themself ready to spring to their feet.

Some of the children are sleeping due to pure exhaustion. The tension won’t let the adults do the same. Besides, they need a plan of action.

“So Tatooine. Where do we go from there?” Asks Edii.

“We need to ditch this ship and pick up a new one right away, then hit hyperspace again. The Imps will want to make examples of us for making fools of them,” Paz growls. “So first order of business is ditching this craft.”

“Easily done. We find a Jawa Sandcrawler and land near it. Sell them the ship and buy a different one,” suggests Korm’rk. “You speak Jawa, don’t you, Ruusaan? Alor would have you go to negotiate with them on Nevarro.”

“Yes, but they may be unwilling to come out and negotiate, we’ll look like Imperials to them,” she answers.

“I’ll go with you,” Savii offers. ”If I bare my Lekku it’ll be very obvious we aren’t Empire, you know how humanocentric the Imps are.” There’s a pause, and then Ruusaan nods slowly.

“You’re right.”

“Will we get enough credits off the Jawas to buy a new ship?” Satrina asks voice quiet and raspy. “Will we have to worry about the Hutts?”

“Tatooine’s been cleaned up by the New Republic,” says Eyah. “Jabba the Hutt got killed off by some raiders a few years back. Someone with close ties to the higher-ups in the Rebellion has some kind of connection to the world, so they’ve done a lot of improvements there. They aren’t flaunting about how nice they’ve made the planet, but it’s no friend to the Empire or the Hutts anymore. I don’t know how much Republic influence is there on a day-to-day basis, though.”

“We might not want to exchange this ship for credits,” suggests Paz after a moment. “I say we tell the Jawas that we want a different ship, not money. They can have most of the supplies too, we just need a ship big enough for our group and any rations or medical supplies we can get our hands on. The Jawas can strip this one down very quickly and remove any beacons.”

“So we give the Jawas this ship and its cargo, take whatever they’ll give us for it… and then what?”

“Hell, I don’t give a damn if what they give us is a ride to the nearest suitable ship we can steal for ourselves,” snorts Korm’rk. “What I do need is a medbay for Satrina…”

Here the Medic’s voice softens and he looks to his husband. Satrina weakly reaches for Korm’rk’s hand to hold. “Satrina needs surgery that I can’t do by myself, even with a good medical ward. One of you could help, but we need supplies, I need a sterile room, scanners. I know some of you are hiding your own injuries right now. We all need tending.”

“I think I can resolve that problem, as well as where to go once we have a ship to leave Tatooine,” says Eyah. “I have an old contact from the Clone Wars, she was a friend and I can see if her contact information is still good.”

“Is this contact trustworthy?” Paz rumbles warily.

“I know that she was forced to remain in the army when the Empire took control, like every other Old Republic volunteer. Rumor I’ve heard says she took the first chance to get away from it all when the New Republic was cleaning up. I remember her saying that when the war ended she’d find a quiet corner of the galaxy and run a volunteer medcenter. If she isn’t doing that, she’ll still know where to get the things Korm’rk needs.”

“Can you trust an Imperial medic?”

“She helped me and many other clones fake our deaths and escape the slave army back in the day. I was one of the last, after the Jedi purge, during the hours that the Empire was rising. I find it hard to think that she was ever a believer in the Imperial ways. I’d even bet money on her feeding intel to the Rebellion if she’d had the chance.”

There is a long silence as they all consider Eyah’s words. Savii isn’t at all surprised by the admission that Eyah’s a clone; he’s hardly the only one of those in their Tribe. Just because he’s never mentioned it before doesn’t mean others haven’t suspected on occasion. Besides, the _Young Elder_ title tends to only be applied to former clone troopers. It’s simply a surprise that he’d talk about his history like this. _Cin Vhetin_ , and all that. But if there’s someone from his past who can help them now…

 _Cin Vhetin_ is a nice concept, anyway, but Savii has always privately thought that it doesn’t quite cover what it means for one to become a Mandalorian. One’s past is what builds them into the kind of person who’d swear to the Creed, especially someone joining as an adult, like Eyah obviously had. Finally, Korm’rk speaks again.

“So what is in the cargo crates? It’s not all Amphetamines to keep the stormtroopers awake for days on end, is it?”

“No,” Eyah answers. “A few crates have rations in them, we might as well keep those. Might be a crate or two with weapons if they didn’t already offload those. No medical supplies, I’m afraid.”

“Imperial bacta’s so crap that it’s not worth using anyway,” Korm’rk scoffs. “I used up what little I had on Satrina and trying to save- well,” his head turns to the corpse that is bound up in the fetal position across the hold, still wrapped.

There is a long silence, the Mandalorians looking at Ordo’s body. Finally Paz sighs regretfully. “When we get to Tatooine, the Jawas will need an hour or two to disassemble this ship. The Imps won’t be able to get to us that fast. It’ll be the time to cremate his remains. We can siphon some of the fuel out of this ship for it, and take his gear with us after.”

“Agreed,” murmurs Ruusaan. “We may need the spare pieces at some point. Savii, you’re a weaponsmith, do you think you could do anything with the beskar?”

“I can maintain our gear and do some repairs, but I don’t know a thing about forging,” Savii grimaces to herself. “I could make whistling birds with the right equipment, craft knives or replace broken pieces if I had spares, but no… I can’t melt Ordo’s gear and remake it into different equipment beyond that. We’d need Al’Alor or… or Zita.”

She winces at the sudden pang in her chest. Zita’s her best friend and this is the first she’s thought of her in all this. But then… Zita’s been off Nevarro for days on mission from the Clan Chief, Savii doesn’t fear for her the same way she does for her Buir, for Alor, for everyone. “Do you think we could track down Zita?”

“Unless we know where she was sent, no, I don’t think we can,” Paz says. “Hopefully she doesn’t return to Nevarro and find herself trapped by Imperials.”

Savii sighs. “Okay. I’m going to look through the crates. Eyah, do you know which would have rations?”

“Check for a green processing tag,” says the Young Elder. He looks around. “There should be water rations in the same crates too.”

“Wait a moment,” Paz says. “Savii, don’t walk away just yet. We all need to discuss a couple more things.”

Savii pauses in pushing herself to her feet and settles back down, looking at Paz expectantly. She notices how he fidgets subtly, fingers tapping on his thigh. Odd.

“We’re a small group right now, and Savii and I are part of the same clan, but the rest of you are all isolated adults. Excluding you two, of course,” He nods to Satrina and Korm’rk. “But Korm’rk is going to be occupied keeping Satrina alive. Of course everyone is stepping in to help because it’s what we do. But between the cramped space we’ll all be living in for some time and the needs of the little ones for reassurance after all that has happened, I ask if all of you are willing to consider us to be a single Clan, and not just a small tribe.”

There’s a long pause as they all consider his words. To an outsider, the difference is marginal, but to Mandalorians, it is a very important distinction. Paz is asking if the group is willing to treat one another as family. To be bare around one another without consequence. It is Edii who speaks first, tone cautious.

“What makes you think this would be necessary?”

“We don’t know how long we’ll be traveling, what accommodations we might have,” Paz answers her. “We may have only brief windows of opportunity to eat or clean ourselves for some time, and beyond that… the children need comfort. We all know how important it is for the youngest to know they are surrounded by caring adults, by family. Now there are more children than grown here.”

Korm’rk sighs tiredly. “I am willing to do it for the children, and necessity might force us to eat in one another’s presence, but I’m not sure I’m comfortable giving up my Clan, Paz Vizla.”

“I will follow with… whatever Korm’rk does,” Satrina says weakly. “I have no clan outside the one he gave me when we got married.”

“Joining ourselves together into a clan can’t be unmade lightly,” opines Ruusaan. “I don’t want to break my bonds to Clan G’lathi. The Covert is in dire straits, but some may weather the storm and rejoin us. I have relatives in other Coverts, though I haven’t seen them in years. I don’t know if the situation we are in is dire enough yet that… that I’d give up being able to see my sister’s face again.”

“I think…” says Savii slowly, trying to bring out the right words to match the thoughts in her head. “I think that we can deal with it as we need. We are adaptable and all Mandalorians. If someone’s helmet must come off, as Satrina’s did earlier, we can all refrain from looking. The Creed allows leeway in times of need. If the children need the comfort of our faces, I am comfortable giving them that in these circumstances. It will mean that we must warn each other if one must remove their mask.”

“I can deal with that,” Edii says decisively. “How, then, will we expect the two recruits to act? Or… _the_ recruit? Do we only have one of those now?”

Her head turns questioningly to Korm’rk, who snarls at her.

“What?” asks Satrina, confused and suddenly anxious, trying to struggle upright. “Did something happen to-”

It’s easy to see that Edii has realized her mistake too late, but luckily Ruusaan steps in before things can devolve.

“The recruits can follow the same rules as the adults, of course. If something changes, we’ll deal with it when that happens, yes?”

“Agreed,” Says Korm’rk, voice tense as he tries to soothe his husband back into a more comfortable position against the wall. Despite his grievous injury, Satrina is still sharp enough to sense a diversion, if the way his head slowly swings around to look at each of them in turn is any indication. “Was there anything else to discuss, _Alor?”_

It takes a moment for everyone to realize that Korm’rk is talking to Paz. The big man startles as it occurs to him and clears his throat. “Yes… Raela. She needs someone to take her in.”

Normally a child who has lost their Mandalorian parent will be taken in by another of that Mandalorian’s family, but Ordo has no relatives here. Savii thinks that her taking on Raela might be appropriate, and the girl does like her, but she’s not sure if she’s prepared to take care of the little girl when she’s also going to have to adjust to being wholly responsible for Zari. But Raela is younger than Zari, whereas the other families all have at least one child younger than the girl, and it can be hard for small ones to suddenly have an older sibling. She’s about to speak up, but another voice interrupts her thoughts.

“I will take responsibility for Raela,” says Ruusaan in a tone that doesn’t broker argument. “She and Nkui have been friends since Ordo and I Found them both, and my son and I spoke about it briefly. There is already a bond forming between them.”

Paz glances around at all of them to see if anyone else might try to lay claim to the young girl, but Ruusaan’s words are sensible, and Savii breathes a sigh of relief. Her uncle nods, marking the issue as resolved. “Good. I’ll leave it to you to talk to her about it, Ruusaan. The rest of us should find the crates of rations and we’ll see what weapons there are, see if anything’s good. After that, settle in and be ready for Tatooine. Assuming the Empire comes after us, we’ll want to find some Jawas to strip the ship right away. No one will want to be near the ship’s last recorded location once the Imperials hit the system.”

“ _Lek_ ,” Korm’rk mutters, turning to Satrina. “You should sleep, I’ll give you more painkillers and sedatives.”

“ _Cyare-_ ”

“Rest, _Ner Kar’ta_ ,” Korm’rk orders, pulling out a hypo. Satrina sighs and tilts his head aside for the injection.

Savii pushes to her feet to follow her uncle, who is already unstacking crates for everyone to look through. There will be no rest for her until her body gives out. She takes her gloves from where they’re still tucked into her belt and puts them on.

Then she gets to work on the crates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buyce- Helmet  
> Buir- Parent  
> Vod’ika- Little brother/Little sister  
> Ori’vod- Big brother/big sister  
> Su cuy’gar- You’re still alive (Common Mandalorian “Hello”)  
> Cin Vhetin- fresh start, clean slate - lit. white field, virgin snow - term indicating the erasing of a person's past when they become Mandalorian, and that they will only be judged by what they do from that point onwards; like the *first turn of the screw cancels all debts* for sailors.  
> Alor - Commander/Chief/Boss/Leader (Situation specific)  
> Lek- Yeah (Informal)  
> Cyare-beloved  
> Ner Kar’ta- My Heart
> 
> Eyah’s contact is actually an old Clone Wars OC of mine who… never actually made it into any of my published fanfics. Whoops!  
> Zita (mentioned) belongs to Winterxsteven
> 
> (I am getting everyone OFF the ship next chapter oh god I can't believe I wrote two consecutive bubble chapters)


	5. Sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems like I'm on a bit of a writing tear for this fic right now. so yay!
> 
>  _werdla haraan_ \- Stealth clothes (Author concept. Unisex Mandalorian clothing that is worn when a Mandalorian must do some task wherin being recognized as Mandalorian may not be helpful. Formless robe-like clothing that includes a hood that covers the entire face, revealing only the wearer’s eyes. The Mandalorian’s armor undersuit is concealed beneath this outfit, a weapon or two, and possibly some pieces of armor as well.)  
>  _Beroya_ \- Bounty hunter  
>  _Resol’nare_ \- The Six Actions, The tenets of of Mandalorian life.

* * *

* * *

A put-upon sigh from the cockpit shakes Savii out of the daze she’d fallen into at some point. She gives a little full-body shake and flexes her arms and legs to bring herself back to full alertness and pushes away from the crate she’s been mindlessly rummaging through.

“Problem?” Savii asks.

“Hmm, they have actual approach control here,” Eyah shakes his head in disbelief. “Luckily the Imps have some signal jammers to try and avoid New Republic sensors. The two main settlements on the planet are both on the same side, so we’ll come around towards the Dune Sea.”

“Will we have a problem with Tuskens?” Savii asks warily. “I know that they’re generally polite if you at least make a well-intentioned attempt to communicate their way, but landing right in the middle of their territory in an Imperial shuttle isn’t very polite as far as anyone’s concerned.”

“We won’t touch down until we find Jawas,” Eyah assures her, banking the ship to the correct angles to enter Tatooine’s atmosphere. He leans over, reaching into a compartment in the console and coming up with a set of binocs. “Look what I found while rummaging around.”

“Binocs, scandalous,” Savii huffs, taking them off his hands anyway. Seems like a decent set as she turns them over. “Keeping them?”

“Yeah, I think so, give them to one of the kids so they can act as lookout, it’ll make them feel helpful,” Eyah suggests. “Maybe Tomad.”

Savii sucks on her teeth inside her helmet, glancing over her shoulder to be sure no one’s paying attention to the conversation, in particular that teenager or his family. “You think he’ll keep to the Creed?”

“Mmm, I think he’ll get over the feeling of wanting to run away if we don’t treat him like he’s already forsaken The Way,” Eyah replies. “If we all act like we expect him to give up on the Resol’nare, it’ll just create a self-fulfilling prophecy. He doesn’t want to lose his family, grief pushed him to momentary madness.”

“This is why you’re the wise Elder,” Savii tells him playfully. Eyah chuckles dutifully, bringing the ship as low as is safe over the endless waves of sand and stone that are the only definition of a miserable desert planet. Savii sighs, unwinding her headscarf and the lekku covers the fabric conceals, folding both up neatly and tucking them into the back of her belt under her cape. She doesn’t like walking about with the back of her head bare, her lekku there for all to see.

 _It_ was _your own idea,_ she reminds herself grumpily. Eyah informs her that he has a Jawa Sandcrawler on the sensors and she nods, heading for the ladder to the lower deck. She pauses long enough to check that Zari is still curled up with Jiiv, Uba, and Cedki before descending. Ruusaan is sitting cross-legged, Raela and Nkui leaned up on either side of her.

“We’re coming in for landing by some Jawas,” Savii tells her. Ruusaan nods, murmuring to the kids who shift away so she can get to her feet. They can hear the engines thrumming as the ship comes in to land, and then the boarding ramp hisses open, and they’re assaulted by the dry heat of Tatooine. “Oh wow.”

“And I thought Nevarro was stuffy,” mutters Satrina from the back of the bay. There’s a soft laugh out of Korm’rk. Savii glances in that direction, but the cargo curtain has been re-hung, so she can’t see anything of that family. She refixes her attention on the sand crawler, and the Jawas’ panicked swarming onto their craft. She and Ruusaan approach, holding their hands out in a universal gesture of greeting.

Savii knows a word or two of Jawa, and she shouts out a friendly greeting. The Jawas pause, taking a closer look at the approaching Mandalorians. The two women approach steadily, stopping at the bottom of the sandcrawler’s ramp. One of the Jawas approaches boldly, though many others stand at the top of the ramp, weapons of various types clutched in hand. The first Jawa demands to know what they want.

“We have a ship stolen off Imperials full of tracking beacons,” Savii tells him in Basic. “We need some experts at liberating such a ship of its beacons.”

The Jawa chuckles at her words, circling the both of them as the two women continue to not make threatening gestures. He chatters that she’s the strangest Twi’lek he’s ever seen. Savii doesn’t quite manage to conceal her irritated growl.

“I’m _not_ a Twi’lek.”

The Jawa shrugs, not caring too much about the point. What have you got to trade, then, _Mandalorians?_

Ruusaan explains the deal, telling him that the Jawas can have the ship and most of the cargo in exchange for helping the Mandalorians secure a different ship that they can take right away. The Jawa chuckles again at the implication that the Mandalorians do not care if their new ship must be _liberated_ from someone else. He claps his hands together, saying he’d like for his people to come aboard and have a look.

<“ _Of course,_ ”> Ruusaan answers fluently in the Jawa’s own tongue. He directs his words to her wholly now, tone delighted. It never fails to amaze Savii how smoothly trade can go if one offers the simplest of respects to another person. Even her rough Jawan had been enough to catch their interest. < _“We have children aboard the ship, and one of ours did not survive the Imperials. While you are working, we will handle his funerary rites.” > _

The Jawa considers this solemnly for a minute, arms crossed, and then walks back up the ramp of the sandcrawler to speak with his people. Savii nods to her friend, pulling on her lekku covers with a sigh of relief as it shields her skin from the suns. Ruusaan chuckles at her knowingly as Savii heads back for the Cargo ship to report in.

* * *

They move off only a short ways to perform the funeral. Paz has pulled out the two crates of water and rations that the Mandalorians want to keep for themselves, and everyone has placed their things around those crates. Satrina, too weak to walk even a couple hundred meters, sits by their things to keep an eye on them.

They don’t really think the Jawas will mess with their belongings in this case, but it’s all they have left, and it could be the difference between life and death for the scant tribe.

They do not dig a pit; instead, Ordo’s body is unbound from the curled position it’s been kept in, and they try to straighten him out. Enough time has passed, however, that rigor mortis has set in, so they leave him looking like he’s sleeping. Raela whimpers and curls herself over the body, her little miserable sounds barely heard over the desert breeze and the voices of the Jawas as they disassemble the Imperial ship. Once Raela has finished whispering to the empty vessel that once housed the being of her father, she is gently pulled away from the body and the labour begins.

They take his armor off, but leave his helmet in place. His pockets are checked for any items that could be of use to the group. His stash of credits is handed over to Ruusaan, for Ordo would’ve used his funds to provide for Raela, who is now in Ruusaan’s care.

A Mandalorian funeral is a simple thing. Ship fuel will suffice when they have no better, and once the body and the sand below it are saturated with the unstable liquid, they all retreat a distance away while Paz uses a small can to create a trail of the gas after them. A quick blast of his flamethrower ignites the trail, which flares to life and becomes an inferno surrounding Ordo’s corpse. For a while they stand to watch it burn, but when the wind shifts slightly and redirects the smoke towards the group they take the children away.

* * *

_ <“Are you Mandos ready to go?”> _ Asks one of the Jawas in its tongue. Savii sighes, pushing out of the shady spot she’s been hiding in.

“Yes, give me a minute, the pyre has burned down, I must retrieve the helmet.”

_ <“Wouldn’t it have made more sense to save all his gear before setting it on fire?”> _

“Fire won’t hurt the beskar, and it is important that one’s face be destroyed before their helmet is taken, if at all possible. Only his family and his spirit now know it.”

The Jawa makes a noise that Savii can’t decipher, tossing hands into the air. < _“Whatever you say, Mando. Who do we talk to about what ships we might trade to you?” > _

“The woman who speaks your tongue fluently and the biggest man,” Savii answers, turning towards Ordo’s pyre.

 _ <“Do you Mandos not have names?”> _ the Jawa asks her.

“Do you?” Savii replies rhetorically, walking away to end the conversation. She hears the Jawa’s laugh behind her, but doesn’t particularly care. The Mandalorians have their ways, and the Jawas their own. She approaches the pyre and finds it still smoldering. The reek of burned flesh is unpleasant, but she sees that Ordo’s body has broken down to something hardly recognizable as humanoid. She carefully reaches for his helmet, mindful of the fact that her thin sniper’s gloves are little protection from the heat.

The beskar _buyce_ is still hot, and she sets it down quickly, looking at the glass formed from the sand melting under the pyre. She reaches out and picks up a chunk that the heat has caused to burst apart, showing a metallic sheen. She turns it over in her gloved hand until the heat penetrates enough that she must set it down. She carefully rolls the body over and hops back as fuel that was starved of oxygen below the corpse is suddenly exposed to air, the heat enough to ignite it. She carefully adjusts what remains of the body back into the flames, and gives it a burst from her flamethrower to ensure that it’ll crumble to dust before picking up the helmet and the small piece of shattered desert glass.

She tucks both items under her arm and brings them with her towards the Sandcrawler.

* * *

As the sandcrawler moves, Savii checks over the inside of Ordo’s helmet to be sure that it’s been cleaned of contaminants by the flames, and then brings it to Raela. The girl sniffles, taking her father’s helmet and hugging it to her chest tightly. Savii leans over to offer the glass shard as well. “This came from his pyre,” She tells the girl. “Something for you to keep if you want it.”

Raela takes that too. She knows well that her father’s helmet will be melted down and forged into something else when the tools are available. That is the Way.

* * *

Savii doesn’t pay much attention to Paz and Ruusaan’s negotiations with the Jawas. She peeks curiously at the holo-projector that shows a few different ships once. Paz doesn’t speak any Jawa, but he understands some, and Ruusaan’s fluency means that she can get detailed answers on whatever aspects she’s concerned about. The Jawas themselves are quite happy with their Mandalorian guests, who have done their best to be unobtrusive and polite.

Perhaps the Jawas are greatly curious to see Mandalorian children as well. Foundlings are so rarely, if ever, shown to outsiders. Many people tend to assume that there is no such thing as a Mandalorian child. Certainly this business dealing will be something the Jawas can spin into a tale for years to come. Savii is wandering around the hold, clucking at the surprising number of droids the Jawas have in keeping. Liberated merchandise or not, it amazes her that so many robots can be found in the dunes.

Her eyes come across a small open crate of fabrics, and she investigates it curiously, picking up a length of grey linen and running it through her gloved fingers. One Jawa chatters at her, reproving for her snooping.

 _ <“Where you find?”> _ She asks in his language, holding up the fabric. The Jawa gives a shrug as if to indicate that it doesn’t matter, and Savii nods. “Fair enough.”

She looks at the fabric, then hums to herself, one hand moving to her credit pouch as she considers the usefulness of this bundle of cloth. The Jawa perks up at her posture.

 _ <”Want to buy?”> _ he asks her, using the simplified pidgin most Jawas speak in when negotiating with other species. She appreciates that he’s recognized that while she understands and speaks some Jawan, her fluency is mediocre at best.

 _ <“Maybe, have needle for sew? String?”> _ She requests. The Jawa nods, coming around her to the crate and setting items aside as he rummages through. He makes a triumphant noise as he comes up with a small sewing kit. Savii looks it over, then unwinds the linen that she’d initially been drawn to.

It’s enough to make two of the simple outfits Mandalorians sometimes wear when they don’t want to be recognized by their gleaming armor. Formless hooded clothing that conceals all aspects of a person but for their eyes. Negotiating a price is relatively simple, though a few Jawas perch around to offer commentary on the bartering. She’d have never thought to consider hawking goods to be a spectator sport, but here she was. Still, at the end of a few minutes, she has the bolt of fabric and the sewing kit and she retreats back to the cluster of her little tribe.

“What’s all this for?” asks Zari, tilting his head at her.

“Eyah needs to go into town,” Savii answers, unfolding the fabric. “Best that people don’t see and remember a large pack of Mandalorians running around. You’ve seen me dressed in my _werdla haraan_ before. I’m making a couple sets since no one brought their own.”

“Smart thinking,” comments the young elder from where he’s sitting. Savii startles a bit, having thought he was asleep. Eyah stretches out stiffly, inspecting his right arm, which seems to be hanging at his side as if he’s had a stroke. “Hmm… Zari, will you do me a favor?”

“Yes Elder?” Zari asks, perking up. Eyah reaches over to his right side with his left hand, grabbing his credit pouch awkwardly.

“See if you can find a full charge pack the Jawas will part with, I need at least fifty volts.”

“Okay,” chirps Zari, taking the credits Eyah gives him and bounding over to talk at a couple Jawas. Savii laughs softly at the sight.

“There, the boy can learn diplomacy,” Eya settles back with a self-satisfied grunt.

“Prosthetic out of charge?” Savii asks, amused despite herself. Eyah lets out a resigned sigh.

“Yes, I charged my legs while we were in hyperspace, but I can’t do the arm when I’m using it.”

“Ah, I see,” She says, not asking the rude question that comes to mind; how many prosthetics does he have!? Instead she leans over her sewing.

“Savii for the love of the Manda,” says Korm’rk from where he’s sitting with Satrina’s head in his lap. “Give me the damn fabric, you’re butchering your stitches.”

“They’re not that bad,” She objects, but handing the project over anyway. If he wants to keep his hands busy, it’s less work for her.

* * *

Korm’rk’s hands are always steady and swift. The clothing he is creating is simple, but it will do as it is supposed to. Edii, it is decided, will join Eyah on his jaunt, and between the two of them, they will contact Eyah’s ally, and find any supplies the group decides they need. The decision is based on the fact that Edii is the smallest of the adults; it will take the least amount of fabric to cover her, and ergo, her _werdla haraan_ will be easiest to stitch.

When they arrive at the location where the Jawas keep the ships they have appropriated over the years, Savii is intrigued by the options, wondering if Paz and Ruusaan have selected one already, based off hologram. As the group disembarks the sandcrawler, it seems that they have in fact narrowed down their options. Savii stays with the main group to offload their things, and she perches amongst the crates to watch as her Tribesmen are led amongst various small ships, Eyah following along to run a quick diagnostic on each with a computer jack that is attached to his right vambrace. Savii looks down from her perch and grins to see Satrina laid out in the shade, helpfully holding the clothes that Korm’rk is focused on creating. Tomad is at their side, tending his little siblings by letting them play with the fabric scraps, though the two toddlers are clearly dozing off in the heat of the day.

Zari climbs up beside her on the crates, looking around. “It’s too hot here. I thought it was pretty when we were in the ship but it’s like we’re in one of Nevarro’s volcanos or something!”

Savii laughs, not the only one to do so.

“Nevarro wasn’t too bad, climate-wise,” Korm’rk agrees. “The ash got into everything though.”

“I don’t really remember where we were before that,” muses Tomad. “But it had more green.”

“Xiphol,” Savii reminisces. “Nice place, shame we can’t go back.”

“It was pretty cool how we blew up the old Covert after luring those Mercenaries there though!” says Tomad. “Even if I only heard about that part after.”

“Indeed,” Savii chirps, looking over the family unit thoughtfully. She glances up at the sound of a ship powering up. “Sounds like we have our ride.”

“Oh finally,” says Korm’rk. “With any luck it’ll have a vactube on board. I can’t believe the Imps never thought that was a necessity in their cargo haulers.”

“Well, as we all know, Imperials are the worst in every way conceivable,” Satrina says tiredly. Korm’rk laughs softly, folding up the clothes he was working on and handing the bundle to Zari. Savii hops down to pick up one of the children as Tomad carries the other, Korm’rk supporting his injured husband.

* * *

Once all the kids and Satrina are settled, the rest of the group sets about bringing in their meager supplies. The Jawas are thanked politely, and then the Mandalorians are bringing the ship into the air.

At the recommendation of the Jawas, they then head for Mos Espa, though Mos Eisley is much nearer. From what they’ve been told, Mos Eisley has achieved the status of Capital City, and has its own New Republic presence. They land on the outskirts easily, and some time is spent investigating the ship that had been picked out. It has some separate rooms; two small personal quarters that might’ve housed bunks at some point, a stripped medbay with a bunk embedded in the wall, and a few random storage areas tucked between. There is, in fact, a simple washroom, though the sonic shower doesn’t work.

Pity, Savii thinks, she still hadn’t been able to clean her cape. She considers just throwing it out, but the Mandalorian cape is a functional item, and finding the right fabric to replace it with could be an absolute pain in the ass. She is mulling this over when Paz walks up and pushes her Amban rifle into her hand.

“Uh?”

“Edii and Eyah are heading into town, Ruusaan needs to familiarize herself with this ship’s controls, Korm’rk’s tending Satrina and I’m too memorable. You have to sit guard at the boarding ramp.”

“Oh,” she says dumbly. Paz sighs and puts a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to gently knock their foreheads together. Savii closes her eyes behind her helmet at the gesture, grateful for it. “So I get to be the scary Mandalorian guard that the strange mysterious robed people hired to protect their vessel, huh?”

“That you do,” He says fondly. “Glad you were thinking when you saw that fabric. Best we aren’t memorable to people here, huh?”

“Yeah,” She sighs softly. “Let me grab my gun oil, might as well clean this while I’m at the ramp.”

* * *

Sitting at the bottom of the ramp, tucked up into as much shade as she can manage might be the worst thing Savii’s had to physically endure since she was an Imperial prisoner during the Night of a Thousand Tears. She is slow-roasting in her armor and she hates everything.

The blowing wind whips up sand so badly that she can’t tend her rifle like she’d planned for fear of the nasty silicate grains getting into the delicate mechanisms, so all she can do is sit, sulk, and glare at the occasional person who comes to take a look at the ship.

No one interacts with her; as soon as they see a Mandalorian holding a rifle at the boarding ramp, they suddenly have a different ship to be hawking their wares at. Then a voice shouts out to her. “Heey Mando!”

… _Almost_ no one interacts with her.

The Theelin who slinks towards her makes Savii’s lekku twitch uneasily under he headscarf. She’s dressed like a prostitute, but the hard lines of muscle in her broad shoulders, and those scarred diamond cut abdominals on display tell a different story altogether. Savii readjusts her posture, picking up the Amban rifle in preparation of using it’s shock-staff function if needed, but keeping her general air relaxed. The other woman stops in front of her, grinning invitingly. “Looking for work?”

Savii sighs. “I’m guarding this ship, so no, thank you.”

“Ah! Well, betcha this other job pays better.”

“I don’t break deals,” Savii replies. “Bad for future business.”

“Ah, if only all Mandalorians felt that way,” the Theelin sighs regretfully, playing with her shirt as if uncomfortable with the skimpy fabric, but trying to be appealing. “You sure you aren’t interested?”

“The cute act isn’t working, you move like a mercenary,” Savii replies, trying to keep her voice bored and flat, but feeling cranky. She doesn’t need some two-bit idiot trying to lure her with the stupidest bait imaginable. “What do you want?”

The Theelin sighs again, then grins. “Eh, figured it was worth a shot. If you must know, I’m looking for another Mando. He _did_ break a deal, you see.”

“Hm.”

“Maybe you know him,” is added, the woman eyeing Savii’s Amban warily. _Hmm_ , something about that look; this is a person who has seen what the Amban can do. Savii’s lips curl into an unseen, nasty smirk at the thought.

“Anything’s possible, I suppose,” Savii knows chatting up people she’s thinking about killing is poor form, it distracts her, and she risks passing on too much information, but she can’t seem to help herself.

 _This is why Djarin is the Tribe’s_ beroya _and not you._

“Used to wear red durasteel, just upgraded to a shiny set of full beskar. He stole a bounty that he’d delivered to a client on Nevarro a week back.”

“Hm,” Savii replies, her smirk growing despite herself as Djarin is described to her.

“Sound familiar?”

“Not particularly. We’re spread thin.”

“Sure you are,” Scoffs the Theelin bounty hunter, putting a hand on her hip and feeling for something. “You bastards swarmed our town when we were trying to reclaim our trophy and-”

“Okay, leave,” Savii snaps, tired of this unsubtle bounty hunter trying to pry information on another Mandalorian out of her. The Amban’s pronged barrel swings towards the Theelin, who recoils, lips parting in a snarl. To Savii’s surprise, the woman actually does turn to go.

Problem: this bounty hunter wants her tribesman, and she will likely pass tales of spotting a Mando to the exact wrong people, but shooting her in the back with the Amban now will draw too much attention due to the noise.

Solution: Savii draws her beskar vibroblade from where it’s tucked into her boot and stands up, taking a throwing stance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _werdla haraan_ \- Stealth clothes (Author concept. Unisex Mandalorian clothing that is worn when a Mandalorian must do some task wherin being recognized as Mandalorian may not be helpful. Formless robe-like clothing that includes a hood that covers the entire face, revealing only the wearer’s eyes. The Mandalorian’s armor undersuit is concealed beneath this outfit, a weapon or two, and possibly some pieces of armor as well.)  
>  _Beroya_ \- Bounty hunter  
>  _Resol’nare_ \- The Six Actions, The tenets of of Mandalorian life.


	6. Dantooine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I bother adding the little image with the names of everyone and the arrangement of their family units to the start of each chapter if the image hasn't changed since the previous chapter?
> 
> Mar’e - At last! (Expression of relief)  
> Kov’nynir - headbutt  
> Beskar’gam - Armor (Specifically Mandalorian Style, made of Beskar)  
> Kaysh ruusaanyc - They reliable?  
> Lek, Mird nayc chaab’la - Yeah, think not scared. (See author notes at bottom of chapter)  
> Auretii - Outsider  
> Duur suvarir Mando’a. - (they) might understand Mando’a  
> Me’dinuir gai’e - Do we share our names?

“Any particular reason there’s a dead Theelin in the sand out there?”

“Bounty hunter asking if I knew anything about some Mando with shiny silver beskar armor, travelling with a very high valued target he stole off Nevarro,” Savii answers without moving from the reclined position she’s taken to try and take advantage of the sliver of shade the ship provides. Tatooine sucks; she’s soaked with sweat in her gear, and every drink of water she’s had only satisfies for a few moments before she’s thirsty again. She wants off this hell planet.

“Well done then,” Says Edii from within her formless clothing. “We have everything we need.”

Savii peers at the Hovercart being towed by a dewback. “Please say we’re not keeping the lizard.”

“No, it and the cart will be returned to town,” Eyah says. “Help bring this up the ramp.”

“Sure.”

At the entryway, shielded from casual view, their tribe members gather up the crates to bring them the rest of the way in. As soon as the last crates are off the cart, Edii hops onto the dewback to return it to town. While they’re waiting on her, Eyah reports to the whole group within the ship, Savii clambering in after him with utter relief. Everyone including the children gather round to listen in.

“Good news,” he tells them, looking down with a chuckle as Kaedo clambers into his lap for attention. He snorts playfully, gently putting his hands on either side of the youngster’s head and shaking it back and forth in a teasing manner, speaking over the child’s giggles. “My contact is on Dantooine, she is in fact running a medical clinic there, and she was very excited to hear that I’m doing well. It’s hard to tell for certain of course, but I think we’ll be pretty safe. She gave us coordinates to fly to on the planet.”

“What did you tell her?” Paz asks.

“That I was with a small group of people who need a safe place to hide out, with one who needs medical help. The rest… well, she’ll learn it when we get there.”

“Will she ever,” Savii chuckles to herself.

“I didn’t tell her our numbers or that we are Mandalorians,” Eyah adds, letting Kaedo flail free of his grip and escape back to his sister. “She… probably won’t expect that. But I suspect she’ll take it in stride once she gets over the shock.”

“You have a lot of faith in this contact,” observes Korm’rk.

“Of course I do, she’s the reason I escaped the Slave army following the Emperor’s takeover,” Eyah answers. “She was… entangled with some of the higher-ups in the clone army, other clones. I don’t know the extent of that, but she was a loyal supporter of us clones and our rights until the bitter end.”

* * *

“Mar’e!” Paz sighs, slumping against the wall. Savii blinks at him with a small grin visible on her face. He turns his head and she can feel the glare directed at her. “Stop smirking.”

“Can’t,” She retorts cheerfully. Theirs is the biggest clan on this little ship, but they’ve taken the second-largest of the rooms to give Satrina the most space to heal with his family. Edii and Ruusaan’s families are splitting the stripped Medbay, the group having stacked their crates to create a partition. Eyah’s making do with a small storeroom. Still, the private partitioned spaces are a blessing, and Savii is happy for the opportunity to relax. They’re in hyperspace, she’s in a room with only her clan, so she’s decided that now’s the moment to try and shake off all the sand that’s accumulated in her cowl and lose the excess heat her body absorbed from those blistering binary suns. She’s got her cape and headscarf hanging on a peg, her Cuirass off to the side, and her helmet in her lap, underarmor unzipped to bare her thin undersuit below. Paz sighs, reaching up to pull off his own _buyce_ , setting it at his side, and chuckling when Cedki picks it up and tries to put it on.

“Ad’ika, that won’t fit,” he rumbles, rubbing his gloved fingers through his beard. Savii leans over, offering him one of the fluid rations that Edii and Eyah had picked up. “Thank you.”

“I can see!” Cedki declares gleefully. “It fits!”

“Let’s see you take your hands away from holding it up so it sits on the top of your head properly,” Savii teases before biting into a reconstituted ration. Not too bad, she decides, better fare than she’d have expected out of Imps. Zari is stretched out at her side, arm thrown over his face as he tries to rest.

“Oh,” says Cedki in disappointment when he takes his hand away from his father’s mask, and it flops around whenever he moves. Jiiv laughs at his younger brother, stretching his leg.

“How’s your ankle?” Savii asks her oldest cousin. Jiiv stretches out his leg, carefully flexing his wrapped ankle.

“Feels okay,” he says, stretching out. “I’m gonna try to sleep… I tried to the whole way to Tatooine but… I couldn’t.”

Savii looks at him closely and Jiiv blushes, looking away. He has some circles starting to form under his eyes, and she sighs sympathetically. “Keep seeing the stormtroopers you killed?”

Jiiv hesitates, still staring at the wall. Paz sighs, rubbing at the top of his son’s bare head and reaching as if to pull him into a hug. The boy flinches away from the gesture, and Paz lets him go.

“It’s alright ad’ika, you did good,” Paz tells him. After a moment of staring, Jiiv settles trustingly into his buir’s arms. Savii smiles a little at the trust in that gesture, knowing how hard it can be for Jiiv to press close to someone.

Uba grabs at Savii’s helmet while she’s distracted, and Savii sighs as the little girl puts it on and charges Cedki, bonking their heads together. Cedki falls on his bum with a startled yelp, but then bursts out into giggles. It isn’t tears, so Savii let them play. “Ahaa! I got you! Kov'neh-neer!”

 _“Kov’nynir,”_ Savii corrects with a snicker.

“No surprise attacks on your brother, you lava weasel!” Paz laughs, reclining and shooting an arm out to pull Savii and Zari closer. Normally Savii would complain to her uncle that he’s coddling her and she’s an adult, but right now she appreciates the closeness.

She sighs, reaching up to adjust her spiky lekku so they aren’t at risk of inadvertently stabbing one of her family members and cracking one of the fearsome-looking but splintery spikes. Zari nestles up against her side, and she puts her arm around him, reaching her other hand out and offering it to Jiiv. After a moment, the boy’s grey eyes find hers and he smiles sadly, gently touching her fingers. She watches his pale pink digits curl around her own violet ones, and squeezes his hand only after he squeezes hers first.

Cedki and Uba continue to chase each other around the room, and Savii is glad that despite it all, they’ve managed to avoid becoming traumatized by the upheaval around them. She chuckles as Uba looses her grip on the purple-trimmed helmet she’s stolen off her, causing it to fall where Uba can’t see through the visor. Instead of stopping to push the visor back into place, the eight-year-old keeps running until she bounces off a wall.

Savii’s probably going to hell for laughing so hard at that, but Uba pushes the helmet off and pats her head before getting right back to chasing her brother, unmasked this time. Paz sighs and shakes his head. They’ll settle down eventually.

* * *

A knock on the door brings her to alertness. Where is her helmet!? Savii struggles to her feet, Zari mumbling at her side. Paz grunts, looking around.

“Don’t come in. What is it?”

“We’re outta hyperspace and coming up on Dantooine. Eyah says we should be landing in ten minutes,” calls Arivi, the youngster’s voice full of self-importance.

“We’re coming,” Paz replies, picking up his helmet and putting it on. Savii finds her helmet where Uba dropped it earlier and picks it up. She slides it on, giving a little shudder once it’s in place, feeling her nerves settle. She first grabs the leather and mail covering, tucking it around her Lekku and clipping it into place. Finally she grabs at her headscarf and set it in place, the magnets catching as they’re supposed to so she can wrap the remainder into place and tuck the end into her-

She took her cuirass off earlier. With an exasperated sigh, Savii goes about removing the headscarf again so she can put together her undersuit and get her rather important chest and back armor placed. Jiiv and Zari have both been staring at her, and they burst out snickering as one.

“You noticed and you didn’t tell me,” She accuses the boys, who dissolve into giggles. Paz is standing, Cedki in one of his massive arms, little head pressed to his father’s shoulder, the boy asleep. Uba grabs at her father’s belt-spat when he stands up, giggling as she’s dragged along by the long piece of fabric that protects Paz’s unarmored backside.

“I thought…. I thought you knew what you were doing!” Jiiv gasps out, before falling back to giggling madly. Savii sighs, finally able to strap on her cuirass. At least it’s done some good for the boys’ mood. They’re both delighted, truly laughing and falling all over each other. Surely that’s worth a little embarrassment. Paz glances at her and she nods at him once she’s secured her helmet back in place. He opens the door and steps out, the kids trailing after him.

She takes up the rear of their little family group, adjusting her head coverings into place as they walk. She pauses at a viewport to take in the view. They’re already in Atmo, flying over great swathes of green and blue. She’s not sure if it’s sunset or sunrise out, and before she can decide, the view suddenly spins as whomever’s piloting brings the ship down into a clearing amongst massive old trees. On the ground she sees a hovercart hitched to two hairy beasts of burden, a person standing in front of them and watching the ship land.

“I suppose that’s Eyah’s contact with the Jerbas,” She comments. Paz leans over and hums thoughtfully.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised a contact from three decades ago would be an old woman, hmm?” he muses. Savii shrugs, eyeing the stranger critically, looking for threats.

The lady holds herself with dignity, hands behind her back, holding the reins of her beasts of burden as she watches the ship with an expression Savii classifies as uneasy. She wears simple farming clothes like they’re a military uniform, and openly carries a blaster on her hip. Certainly not a fool.

The ship powers down and Savii looks around as Eyah approaches from the cockpit. “Have everyone wait here a minute,” he instructs Paz. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Will she recognize you?” Paz asks. “By voice she’ll know you’re a clone, but you individually as the person she helped?”

Eyah shrugs. “I think so. One way to find out.”

The young Elder turns towards the boarding ramp, and waits for it to open. Paz gently holds his daughter back from disembarking after the old man. Savii hears footsteps and looks around to nod at Ruusaan, who stops a polite distance away. Savii turns back to the viewport to watch, sound travelling in through the open ramp.

The woman seems taken aback by the sight of Eyah, but after a moment of staring, her face breaks into a smile. Despite the fact that there’s no way he wore beskar’gam when she’d last seen him, there is recognition in the way she drops the reins of her Jerbas and steps towards him, reaching out to clasp his hand and shoulder. “Echo! It really is you.”

“Hello, Mareenh,” he replies lightly. “My name is Eyah now.”

“Eyah,” she accepts. More words are exchanged, and Savii glances at her uncle, who gestures for her to move down the ramp, since Eyah’s friend appears to have been unbothered by his status as a Mandalorian.

She steps out of the ship, some of the others trailing behind her, pausing as her helmet’s filter adjusts to the brightening light. Dawn it is, then. She turns towards where Eyah and his friend are talking, the woman audibly admiring his armor. Whomever she is, she seems a bit better versed in Mandalorian culture than most people in the Galaxy; she asks if his gear is real _beskar’gam_ , and pronounces it quite well for an outsider.

The woman glances up as they approach, and her smile fades as she takes in the group of Mandalorians. Her expression becomes politely curious, but Savii can see the subtle shifting of weight, the way the woman’s pupils have dilated to take in more light despite the rising sun. Adrenaline rush; fight or flight response. The controlled reaction; a soldier used to the necessities of subtlety, her wits not dulled by age. Out of curiosity, Savii taps a button on her vambrace to activate her infrared tracking, and notes the way body heat sheds off the woman. She is not at all surprised to see she is wearing armor under her unassuming clothes.

 _Eyah has good taste in friends,_ Savii decides.

* * *

“Will the ship be safe and unnoticed here?” Paz asks. The older lady - Mareenh is her name - glances up at him, then back down to where she’s readjusting the crates on the hovercart to make for comfortable seating.

“It’s my property. The trees should be enough of a visual cover that no one will see the ship itself,” she tells him, looking over as Satrina slowly walks down the ship’s boarding ramp, supported by Korm’rk. “How bad are those injuries? My original plan was to take him straight to my clinic, but if I bring a Mandalorian in for treatment during daytime hours people will definitely notice.”

Korm’rk launches into a detailed description of Satrina’s punctured lung, as well as outlining what tools he wants to ensure his husband is healing well. The former Imperial looks at him, then at Satrina, and nods.

“Well, if it’ll keep, I’ll take everyone straight to my homestead. We can bring him to the clinic once things have settled down for the night,” she decides, stepping out of the way as Satrina is helped onto the cart. She pats one of the Jerbas and scratches at its muzzle. Once all the crates are loaded, Satrina is settled and a couple of the kids are placed in the hovercart, she moves to climb up onto the nearest Jerba. “Ech- ah, Eyah. Do you want to ride the cart or are you walking?”

“I can walk for now,” he tells her. She shrugs, taking up her reins and clicking her tongue at the Jerbas. The cart moves forward, turning as the older woman pulls on the reins.

At the back of the line, Ruusaan makes sure the ship is sealed up tight before walking along with the rest of the group. Savii glances to her little brother at her side, and he looks up at her with a curious grin. She gently squeezes his shoulder, speaking softly.

“What do you think of Dantooine?”

“It’s so colorful!” He exclaims, louder than maybe he should. “Look, there’s wildflowers, Savii! A stream of _water_! Not lava!”

She smiles warmly at his enthusiasm, watching him take in this strange new world around them. He’s not from Nevarro originally; most of the foundlings aren't, but they were so young when the Covert moved to the volcanic world that they remember no other. Tatooine had been overshadowed with tension and planning, but here they are safe for a while, if Eyah’s friend is as reliable as he believes.

Savii eyes the older woman more closely, and marks her as being in her fifties at youngest, then reconsiders that she’d been a doctor over thirty years ago during the Clone Wars. Probably older, then. She carries herself confidently on the Jerba’s back despite her age and the wary way she occasionally half-glances over her shoulder, taking in the Mandalorians out of the corner of her eye.

On the cart, Satrina lets out a wheezy sort of sigh. “ _Kaysh ruusaanyc_?”

“ _Lek_ ,” Savii replies. “ _Mirdi, nayc chaab’la._ ”

“Hm,” Satrina’s head drops back against the crate he’s been leaned against. Savii feels the need to add one more comment, though the _auretii_ has not looked around at the brief conversation.

_“Duur suvarir Mando’a.”_

Satrina tenses slightly and nods his understanding.

* * *

The homestead is settled in the middle of a great open field with sightlines in every direction. Savii takes in the setup with interest: Two brick and stone buildings, and a wooden barn with connected corral. Mareenh brings the cart up to the smaller of the two buildings and carefully slides off her mount’s back.

“The guest house has a small kitchen, two bedrooms, one washroom, and a living room. My house is a lot bigger: it has a couple spare rooms, a basement, and two washrooms, both with showers, one with a tub,” she says, looking over the whole group. “I suspect you guys are… going to want to clean up.”

It’s impossible to miss the way the woman’s eyes flick to the bloodstains on Korm’rk’s arms, or the tears in Edii’s bodysuit. Shrugs all around.

“Well,” says Eyah, looking around and glancing at Paz. “ _Me’dinuir gai’e_?”

Paz glances around the group. Savii shrugs, indicating her not minding either way. Eyah trusts this woman implicitly, and offering up their names would make communication easier. The others must give similar gestures, because Paz looks back to Eyah and nods.

Eyah lets out a long breath. “There’s four clans here and myself. Paz there and Savii have four youngsters between them. Satrina and Korm’rk have three, Russan has two, Edii two, and then there’s me.”

As he speaks, he points out each adult Mandalorian, and the woman’s eyes follow his gestures. She nods in understanding of his words. “Well… feel free to look around and figure out what works, I guess. I need to call in to the clinic and tell them I’m not… going to come in today.”

A hand is run through her greying hair, and she looks absolutely exhausted a long moment. Savii clicks her tongue sympathetically, and watches as Paz goes to investigate the houses. Zari, fascinated by the Jerbas, follows after their host to see where she’s taking them once they’re disconnected from the cart Satrina’s still sitting in. Savii lets him go, but keeps a sharp eye as he jabbers eagerly, trying to help unhitch the team. Her little brother is handed the heavy harness off one of the creatures all at once, and he stumbles a little under the weight, but he hauls them into the barn as instructed. By the time he returns, the old woman has the other harness off and is waiting to hand it to him.

Paz returns and explains the layout he’s thought up. Eyah can stay in the main house with his friend. There’s the two guest rooms and the basement, of course. Clan Vizla will take the basement since it’s the largest space. He tells them that the laundry is down there, along with one of the washrooms, and it’s separated from what appears to be an unused living room by wall and closing door, so they can all come and go if they must. The second upstairs guest room can be taken by either Edii or Ruusaan’s family. In the guest house, Satrina and Korm’rk’s clan can claim the master bedroom, and the remaining family of three the other.

Nods all around - it makes sense, and the homeowner adds that she has extra blankets and pillows in the closets of the guest rooms if needed. Paz turns to her fully and thanks her sincerely for her hospitality. She spreads her hands in a gesture that encompasses a shrug and sincerity all at once.

“You are in need. How could I live with myself if I did otherwise?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mar’e - At last! (Expression of relief)  
> Kov’nynir - headbutt  
> Beskar’gam - Armor (Specifically Mandalorian Style, made of Beskar)  
> Kaysh ruusaanyc - They reliable?  
> Lek, Mird nayc chaab’la - Yeah, think not scared.*  
> Auretii - Outsider  
> Duur suvarir Mando’a. - (they) might understand Mando’a  
> Me’dinuir gai’e - Do we share our names?
> 
> *Note: Mandoa is a rather short, biting language. My thought is that there’s more than one dialect in that Mandalorians on the move or in combat use a very terse, simple version of the language, and when they feel safe and secure, they use much more flowing language. So when Satrina asks ‘Kaysh ruusaanyc’ in a situation where everyone’s still a bit wary, it’s easily inferred by another Mandalorian that he’s asking “Does this person seem to be on our side? Do they seem to have a certain level of strength and wit”?”  
> Simiarly, Savii’s bitten off “Lek, Mird nayc chaab’la” passes on enough information. She could’ve answered in a complete sentence, ‘Elek, Ni mirdir meg kaysh nayc chaab’la” (Yes, I think that she’s not fearful) But brevity gets the point across just fine, and it means they can return to watchful silence more quickly. This isn’t completely headcanon, since it’s worth noting that the mando’a dictionary even mentions that words like “bac” (that) are rarely used.
> 
> Interestingly, Savii could also be translated as saying “Yeah. (they) think(,) (and appear to be) not scared.” since “Mird” isn’t completely necessary in that bitten off sentence. Both possible contexts arn’t inaccurate, and no one asks her for clarification.
> 
> Mareenh is pronounced "Mah-ree-n" Basically take the french pronunciation of "Marie" and drag out the vowel sound at the end before adding the "nn" sound. "Marine" isn't completely inaccurate depending on accent.


	7. Reset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyayah- Echo  
> Strill- Nearly extinct Mandalorian beast. A meter long, six legged, capable of gliding and hyper intelligent. Very much a Mandalorian creature: Intensely loyal and capable of horrible violence, but gentle and loving to offspring and children of other species. Are known to build nests for pregnant people. Ridiculously long lifespans (300-400 years), hermaphroditic. Stinky, but somehow only to male humanoids.  
> (Strill are a MESS in Legends canon and I love them. Also they’re capable of carrying a fully grown human so I’m gonna assume they’re actually bigger than a Meter long.)  
> Vor’e - Thanks
> 
> I thought about coming up with a different word for “Achilles tendon” but then I figured that it’s easier if I just use a word that people will recognize. Sorry if it ruins your immersion.  
> Recent Chapters have been calm and quiet, I know. When it comes to survival when you’re in a refugee situation, you’re trying to lay low and not draw attention. Don’t worry though, we will eventually get a little violence going again. I have plans for how this fic will end. It’s not going to be a sad slice-of-life series of vignettes forever.

Savii’s more than happy to toss her cape and headscarf into the sonics laundry alongside her uncle’s belt-spat, leaving it turned off for the moment. She sets aside her lekku-cover to clean by hand, and sinks to the floor of the room that Paz has designated as their Clan’s sleeping space. Ruusaan has claimed the second spare bedroom upstairs, and there’s a knock on the doorframe as the other Mandalorian leans in the open door.

“There’s a massive tub in the main bathroom and quite the shower. I’m going to get me and mine cleaned up first, but it might be easier for you to clean your little ones in the tub,” she tells Paz. “Will one of you keep watch?”

“Of course,” says Paz. “Why don’t we all head up there for now? You can pass your undergear out the door and one of us and bring it to the laundry too.”

“Oh brilliant,” Ruusaan sighs. Savii checks the laundry and gestures for Ruusaan to hand over her own cape to toss in as well since there’s room. She turns it on and nods before following the other woman upstairs. Accounting for how long it’ll take Ruusaan to get the clothes off her kids before being able to strip herself out of armor and gear, there’s plenty of time for this first wash cycle to run.

Ruusaan herds Nkui and Raela ahead of her into the washroom, Savii and Paz each sinking into a chair in the living room, their little clan’s children following along. Savii peers out the window, taking in the scenery with a thoughtful hum. It’s a beautiful place. A couple rooms away, they can hear the homesteader’s voice, her tone slightly shrill, and Eyah speaking to her in a calming, apologetic tone.

“Ah, there it is,” Paz chuckles, shifting a bit, causing the chaise he’s on to creak warningly. “I thought that woman was handling all this with a surprising amount of grace.”

Savii watches as her uncle adjusts his position warily, his seat complaining under his not inconsiderable bulk and weighty armor. She hesitates a moment before undoing her greaves and boots, setting them aside so she can pull her socked feet up onto her chair and perch there guilt-free. “Maybe you should… try the couch instead, uncle.”

He sighs agreeably, pushing to his feet as his kids giggle, Uba immediately clambering into the chair he’s vacated. Carefully, Paz settles onto the couch, which being rated for several people, can apparently withstand the beast of a man and his heavy armor. Cedki clambers up beside his sister. Savii smiles within her helmet when Zari moves to sit by the window, looking out over the grassland that ends at forest. A stream is visible to the east, sparkling brightly in the midday light.

“Buir, why does the lady sound angry?” Asks Cedki, squishing in tight beside Uba, who giggles, pushing at him so she can make herself more comfortable.

“When Eyah called to ask if he could bring some friends to her for help, she wasn’t expecting so many of us, or for us to be Mandalorians,” Paz explains to his youngest.

“Why did she call him Echo when she saw him the first time?” Uba asks.

“It must’ve been his old name,” Paz says with a shrug. “It does sound like a name the Republic slaves would use.”

Savii makes an absent noise of agreement. The Clone Wars was before her time; she was born in the rising days of the Empire, her uncle was a child back then, so she’ll take his word for it. There’s a childish squeal from the washroom and a surprised exclamation from Ruusaan, which has Savii wondering what’s going on in there, but she doesn’t go investigate.

“What kind of name is _Echo_? No wonder he changed it,” Jiiv comments a bit disdainfully from where he’s perching in the next chair over.

Savii reaches out and flicks the back of the boy’s helmet, causing him to jump. “That’s rude, youngling.”

“Hah, _Eyayah_ ,” giggles Zari suddenly. Savii sighs and shakes her head. Jiiv has fallen silent, hopefully contemplating his manners. “He didn’t really change his name.”

“Well that’s his business, isn’t it?” Savii says to her little brother. She’s about to add more, but a high pitched metallic rattling has her launching out of her perched position to the floor, landing in a crouch, heart racing. In comparison, Paz straightens and looks around with a vaguely curious air. Annoyed with herself, Savii pretends not to notice how her little brother and cousins are staring at her. “What is that?”

“Not sure,” Paz says, shifting as if he’s about to get up, but the homeowner is appearing from down the hall and hurrying to her computer workstation. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t make a noise,” says the old woman hurriedly, picking up an unusual commset that is vibrating loudly and answering the call. When she speaks, her tone is bright and cheerful. “Myle! What’s happening?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Mareenh. You called in sick from the clinic today; everything alright over there?”

Savii cocks her head slowly, glancing towards her uncle, who shrugs. Eyah pokes out of the same room Mareenh had emerged from, weariness evident in his posture. The homesteader lets out a long sigh.

“All’s well, one of the Jerbras has colic and I’m tending her. It’s a rough one.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want me to bring some soup over for you?” asks the voice, full of concern. It’s more worry than Savii thinks someone should have about a pack animal with stomach issues, but what does she know. The Homesteader’s lips purse and she lets out a sigh.

“I’m fine, but thank you, Myle! I have plenty to eat.”

“Are you completely sure you don’t want any _soup_ , though?” Asks the voice on the other line. This time Savii picks up the heavy inflection on the word ‘soup’ and glances at her uncle, who is staring intently at the homeowner. “It wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“I don’t need any soup, I have everything I need. But thank you, Myle,” says the Homeowner, tone exasperated. “Looks like Apocalypse is having another colic bout, I better go!”

There’s a muffled “Oh, okay.” from the comm as the homesteader turns it off and tosses it back on the counter. Mareenh runs her hands over her face with a long sigh.

“Soup, huh?” Asks Eyah, tone curious. “Sounded like a codeword.”

“It is, one I taught her,” says the older woman with irritation. “I told her if she ever needed help to give me a call, and if I offered to bring her some soup, I was asking if she needed me or someone else to show up on her property and defend her from her ex. I suppose she thought I didn’t get what she was asking the first time.”

“That gonna be a problem?” Paz asks warily. The homesteader shrugs.

“Probably not. Myle is pretty jumpy; any routine change is enough to make her nervous and our little community knows it.”

“Cool,” says Savii, dropping back into her seat. She pauses a moment. “Who is Apocalypse?”

“One of the Jerbras,” replies the old lady, leaning on the counter with a grin. “It suits her.”

“I love it and I want to meet her!” Zari declares loudly. The homesteader laughs, and it breaks the tension.

* * *

Savii takes her shower after everyone else. The washroom is soaked through from the delighted splashing of children, and she wonders how things are going over in the guest house. She sighs to herself, locking the bathroom door and stripping her armor off first, stacking it on the floor and making a mental note to tidy up when she’s done so the poor lady helping them doesn’t have to deal with it herself. She glances around, sees the tub, which she could probably stretch out in, and chuckles. The shower is big enough to stretch in, with a handheld attachment and… a giant nozzle on the ceiling?

Quite the setup, that.

She looks at it for a couple moments, then checks the rest of the washroom, finding a mostly-dry towel for herself and hanging it on the shower rack. There’s a full-length mirror by the sink that she barely glances at before turning her attention back to undressing, removing her helmet and placing it on the counter. She lets out a long sigh and peels off her gloves first, and then unzips her heavy weave undergear. That set aside, she slips out of her sweat-wicking undersuit, and then divests herself of breast band and underwear. Everything is piled by the door and she cracks it the barest inwards, keeping away from view.

“Uncle, you can take my clothes to the wash now.”

She steps back, hiding behind the door as he walks over and grabs the pile of clothing to bring it to the wash like she’d done for him and his children, and for Zari. Once the pile of clothing is out the door, Paz pulls it shut again, and Savii re-locks it and heads for the shower. It takes a bit of fiddling but she figures out how to make hot water flow out of the ceiling nozzle and spends a glorious few minutes just standing under the warm rain, letting it beat against her head and shoulders. They had sonics on Nevarro. More efficient, but the sensation of water is so much more pleasing. Goosebumps prick at her skin whenever it’s exposed to air instead of hot water.

She shakes herself out of her daze and washes herself down efficiently, starting at her head. The water beats down on her, and she takes her time making sure to scrub every inch of her body. Once done, she shuts off the water and stretches out her limbs, flexing her fingers, lifting each foot and rotating it, popping her spine luxuriantly. A series of quiet pops when she flexes her left leg makes her sigh, and she steps out of the shower to towel off. Savii’s lekku curl and flex as she leans forward, sticking her left leg out to dry and inspect for any bruises she might not have noticed getting. She palpates her foot and up her ankle, mindful to avoid the scarring around her achilles tendon, though she leans her hip on the wall and rotates the ankle experimentally to ensure the damage done there long ago hasn’t worsened any.

Her leg spasms involuntarily as she tests it, and she grimaces to herself. She was lucky, really; few people survive an attack by trained Strill, and she’d gotten away with only a torn tendon and some nerve damage. Mind, the beast _had_ been ordered to take her alive. She sighs again and plants her weight on her left foot, ignoring the twinge, and turning her attention to her right leg. Childhood scuffed knee scars from playing hard, and a few fresh bruises up her thigh from what she assumes was her armor bouncing harshly at a few points. Nothing of concern.

She straightens and spots a humanoid figure out of the corner of her eye, jumping into a combat stance, the other being mirroring her-

Mirroring her. It’s the full-sized mirror. She scrubs a hand over her face and lets out a shuddering breath before approaching her reflection, wiping the condensation from the reflective surface. If the mirror is here, she might as well put it to use, and being able to take in her whole form in one glance is a rather novel experience. She is used to experiencing her body firsthand, not seeing it reflected back at her. The mirrors she’s used in her life to inspect herself for injuries were small, handheld things. She turns to check the sides of her hips, her back, running her hands over skin to feel for tender points.

The 2-credit romantic novels say that Mandalorians feel disconnected from their bodies under the armor. Maybe some Mandalorians do, but Savii was taught to know her form, her shape, her muscles. _It is essential to know your flesh, ad’ika, know the limits it has, what you can push in times of need and what parts of yourself to treat more carefully. You only have one body, and it contains your Self, for all that your armor is your skin and reflection of your being. If it is damaged or weakened, then so too is the rest of you._

She feels a pang of longing for her buir and closes her eyes a moment. She hasn’t recited Remembrance since they left Nevarro, there just hasn’t been time. They haven’t lived a day and night cycle for the past hundred-plus hours. They’ve simply endured, catching catnaps when their bodies’ need for sleep outweighed the tension keeping them awake. Now that they’re somewhere secure, she will speak the names of those she’s loved and lost, but she doesn't know if she’ll be able to say the name Abara Ranov. _Buir._

She still hopes childishly that her _buir_ will survive. That the Covert will endure the Imperial occupation. As much as Nevarro sucks, it holds the people she cares about most. She lets out a long exhale, centering herself, and turns back to checking herself for new scars. She has less than many other Mandalorians; being a sniper, but she has a few of the usual faint training scars that occur with recruits, and a couple more serious scars, though to an outside viewer they’d perhaps be unnoticable.

Small healed-over pockmarks in the right side of her waist, ribs, and arm where the cuirass didn’t quite protect her from a flechette mine hardly keep her interest. The wounds were brutal at the time, and she still has notches in quite a few rib bones, but they’re well-healed, and don’t trouble her. She has a bruise on her right shoulder, black on her purple skin, and wonders where it came from. She lightly presses on it, humming as she tries to figure it out. Bodyslamming a Stormtrooper maybe? Or… she _had_ gotten flung around that Imperial ship’s cargo hold. _Huh._ That probably accounted for the thigh bruises and her sore neck too, now that she thought about it.

Two more scars, both she knows well. The first, she glances at and traces with her fingertips across her right cheek. Just a small cut, meant to humiliate a Mandalorian prisoner. She still remembers snarling at her captor, more fear than courage. _Does it make you feel strong to hurt a teenager, big man!?_

The other scar had been given to her moments later, the tip of her captor’s knife pressing up under her left ear and slowly sliding towards her throat, parting her skin as it passed. She’d trembled so badly that the blade had slipped up under her jaw, leaving a jagged mark. Quietly, she touches this second scar, and then the first one on her right cheek again.

The one who’d given them to her had been killed, of course. But not by her. She gives a full-body shudder and redirects her thoughts away from the Purge. She checks her teeth briefly to ensure they haven’t cracked or broken, and is unsurprised to see that they’re as they were the last time she checked them. She would’ve felt it if it were otherwise.

When her tally is done, she cracks the washroom door the slightest bit to speak to those out in the living room. “How much longer until my Laundry’s done?”

“Ten minutes,” Ruusaan’s voice informs her.

“Vor’e.” Savii shuts and locks the door again, figuring she might as well spend those ten minutes enjoying the shower’s heat.

* * *

Clothes and armor on, washroom put into enough order that the homesteader won’t feel the urge to fight anyone, Savii steps out of the washroom and discovers her baby brother fast asleep on the couch. She lets out a fond noise, petting his head.

“It’s been a rough couple days, huh Zari?” She murmurs. Instead of trying to pick him up, which would wake him, she leaves him there and heads downstairs to see what’s happening. Her uncle rouses a bit from sleep when she opens the door.

“All good?”

“Yeah, Zari’s asleep upstairs. Are we gonna have a watch?”

Paz sighs, scrubbing a hand over his bare face and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Just get some sleep, Savii. Korm’rk came in briefly to say he’s gonna try and be rested for when the homesteader takes him and Satrina to her clinic to do that surgery, and the lady herself went to her bedroom and back to sleep.”

“Okay,” She says, looking around. Her uncle has laid out pillows and blankets for everyone, though Uba and Cedki have dragged their little nests together and are curled around one another, faces cherubic in their sleep. They don’t look a thing like each other; the younger a brown-skinned human, the older a faintly blue half-Pantoran, but they cling to one another anyway, drawing comfort from family. Savii picks up one of the blankets and brings it upstairs to tuck around her little brother, petting his head affectionately. It rouses him a little.

“Mmm?”

“I’m going downstairs to sleep, vod’ika, you can stay up here if you want.”

“Mmkay,” he rolls over to face the back of the couch and curled up. Savii smiles and heads back to the nest that Paz had made her downstairs, collapsing into it fully geared.

She doesn’t even take off her helmet before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurs to me that I should at least inform ya'll about what species the unmasked kids are >>; So... I guess I'll have to find a not-hamfisted way of doing that.


	8. Bullseye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Target shooting with Tomad, and an important talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **I adjusted the character list to show what species each of the kids are.** The adult Mandalorians? Well, they’re all in full armor all the time so what can you tell. I think an inference could be made anyway.  
> Because I’ve been asked a couple times, Korm’rk is not Null clone trooper Kom’rk. They’re different characters. I’m not a fan of the “one Steve universe” rule anyway. They tell me that “Ruusaan” is a popular woman’s name in Mando’a? Then there’s gonna be Ruusaan’s everywhere. Apologies for the very talky, slow chapter, have some fun facts about the characters.
> 
> -Tomad is genetically a nephew to one of his fathers.  
> -Vidri and Thal are genetic half siblings  
> -The identity of Arivi’s biofather is revealed in one of my other stories. (see Salvage what Remains)  
> -Paz went from ‘no kids’ to ‘three kids’ within the span of about three months, four years ago.  
> -Savii Found Zari when she was still a teenager, hence why Abara adopted the boy instead of letting Savii do it.  
> -Some of the kids are escaped/liberated slaves. Slavers don’t usually stop on Nevarro, but when they did… they’d have a very sudden bad time with a pack of Mando’ade lurking around.  
> -Jiiv and Thal are the only Foundlings who were born on Nevarro, but most of the others were too young to remember much of where they were before.  
> -Jiiv and Zari both have living bioparents out there somewhere. Jiiv ran away from an abusive situation (See A Foundling’s Tale), and Zari was abandoned. Due to those circumstances the Mandalorians consider both boys to not have family outside the Tribe.  
> -Jiiv is AFAB, his bioparents’ reaction to his insistence that he’s a boy is what lead him to run away from his birth family. He didn’t tell the Mandalorians about this when the took him in, but none of them questioned it when it came to light. He says he’s a boy, he’s a boy.  
> -Originally I planned to have Korm’rk and Satrina have a fourth child who was an adult at this point, but I wasn’t sure what to do with that one, so I didn’t go with it.  
> -There are some Mandalorians who are in the 18+ range in the tribe. Unfortunately, those were counted as adults, they and their families stayed behind.
> 
> Dar'manda: a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditionall-minded Mando'ade  
> Mando’ad: Mandalorian  
> Mando’verd: Mandalorian Warrior  
> Mando’vhett: (Literally: Mandalorian Farmer) Mandalorian Civilian.  
> Ne’verd: Civilian
> 
> This chapter contains a non-graphic scene of an animal being hunted for meat.

Please look at the Face of Savii by the Talented astromechovess

* * *

* * *

She’s up after only a couple hours of sleep. The stress of all that’s happened doesn’t easily wash away. Savii pushes to her feet and reaches for her lekku cover. She settles it into places, tucking her lekku into it, wincing when a spike from her left lek catches on a ring of the mail and snaps off at the tip. She carefully pushes it into the leather interior of the cover and seals the whole thing to her helmet.

She’ll need to file the spikes down in a day or two. She picks up her headscarf and sets it into place, then grabs her Farsight Rifle and the Amban, deciding to see if she can find somewhere to practice her targets. Paz and his kids are all still sleeping, so she quietly slips out of the room. Heading up, she notices that the couch no longer holds her baby brother. She looks around and spots him outside. Riding a Jerba.

Her heart settles back into place when she realizes the homesteader is walking beside the beast, clearly instructing Zari on how to control his mount. Savii shakes her head with a hidden smile and heads outside, spotting Edii and her children leaned up on the fence, watching the lesson, and Tomad supervising his younger siblings as they explore the garden, pulling up brightly colored plants at random. Tomad’s shoulders are tense, she idly notes. She leans on the fence rail and waits for the homesteader to notice her. Movement has her looking around to see Eyah pulling some kind of fruit off a nearby tree and bring up to the rim of his helmet to smell.

“Savii, this is so fun! This is Apocalypse! Isn’t she great!?” Zari exclaims when he spots her, patting his Jerba.

“Good afternoon,” the homesteader says, pausing the Jerba a few feet away from the fence where Savii’s leaning. “Your younger brother was very interested in helping me with my chores, and the other adults said it’d be fine for him to learn to ride.”

“Oh definitely,” Savii smiles at her little brother, though Zari can’t see it though her helmet. He smiles back anyway, absolutely glowing with delight. It’s good to see. “I learned to ride Dewbacks and Eopies as a child, Jerbas look like they take about the same commands.”

“Not too different, once you account for the way you sit on the beasts,” the homesteader says, pleased. “Do you want to give it a try?”

“Yeah! C’mon, _ori’vod_!”

Savii chuckles. “I was hoping there’s somewhere on your property I might do some target shooting.”

“Ah well,” The homesteader absently scratches her Jerba’s neck. The beast gives a full body shake, Zari letting out a surprised squeak on its back. “There is an open field that backs into the forest out there. There’s a small hill that you can set targets up on. Just follow that path back towards your ship and take a left turn when you come to a fork in the trail.”

“Sounds perfect, thank you,” Savii looka up to her brother. “You listen well to the lessons and treat your mount nicely.”

“Yes Ori’vod,” Zari grins again, face glowing. Savii stretches, and turns to follow the trail when something small ricochets off her helmet. She startles and turns to see Eyah watching her. She stares at the Elder as he casually meanders in her direction.

“Take Tomad with you,” he tells her quietly once they’re side-by-side. “He needs some time away from being responsible for his siblings, and away from… certain people. I’ll watch over the little ones.”

Savii hums, but nods agreeably, turning towards the teenager.

\---

It’s surprisingly easy to coax the teenager away from his siblings once Eyah offers to keep an eye on them. Vidri and Thal seem pleased to have the Elder’s full attention, so Savii walks with Tomad down the path. Her farsight rifle is clipped to her cuirass, Tomad carrying her Amban over his shoulder, leaving her hands free to touch a mossy tree at the head of the trail.

“What a wonderful place,” she says. “It reminds me of Concordia.”

“Was Concordia like this?” Tomad asks, brushing his fingers through the soft growth.

“It was green and forested and beautiful. The Day and Night cycle were very odd, since it orbits Mandalore. There wasn’t moss like this, though.”

“Wish I could have seen it,” Tomad sighs. Savii pats his shoulder, and they continue walking. Savii keeps most of her focus on their surroundings, alert to the unexpected, but she glances occasionally at the teenager by her side. Tomad is a smart young Mandalorian, and she hopes that he’ll stay in the Tribe. She’d like to offer him advice or encouragement, but she recalls Eyah telling her to treat the boy as normal, so she holds her peace on the subject.

The youngster’s shoulders are tense, but the more they talk of inconsequential things, Savii pointing out different plants and wondering aloud if they’re edible, the more Tomad relaxes. In fact, when they come to the fork in the trail he stops to point out a skull that’s been placed on top of a sign board, enthusiastic. “That’s a Cervidenta skull! The Auretii said they’re good to eat and the antlers are great for knife handles.”

Savii peers at the skull with interest, approaching for a better look. There are horns protruding from the crown of the skull, and fangs poking downwards. “What a funny animal this must be. Big fangs, but no upper incisors. Did she say anything else about it?”

“Yeah, it’s a herbivore, but they use the fangs to defend themselves from predators. They use the antlers to fight for mates,” Tomad touches the horns on the skull.

“Antlers?”

“They’re like horns, except they’re bones that grow in every year, then after mating season they fall out. The males grow bigger ones the next year.”

“That’s… interesting,” Savii tells him, finding that to be outrageous. Bones that grow every year and then fall out? She looks at the skull, grinning to herself, but keeping the commentary internal. Tomad crosses his arms, clearly pouting.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t think you’re lying to me, I just think that this ‘antler’ thing sounds ridiculous.”

“Well it’s totally the truth, she showed us some antlers that’d fallen off a buck!” Tomad tells her. “When we get back I’ll show you!”

“Alright,” she says agreeably. “Because I am curious. I’ve never heard of something like that. Are they edible?”

Tomad nods, clearly mollified. “Yeah, she said they’re really good to eat, and she said something about maybe trying to shoot one for meat, since there’s so many guests on her farm now.”

“Hm!” Savii traces her gloved fingers over the skull. “Well that’s interesting. I’d love to see one of them.”

She turns and heads towards the target range, Tomad trotting alongside.

\---

Each time she squeezes the trigger, a target falls over. 

Savii sets the farsight rifle down and pushes herself up from her prone position to stretch her back, pleased. “Do you want to take a few shots after I set the targets back up?”

“Sure,” Tomad says, shifting around a bit. He comes to help her set up the targets, and Savii’s happy to see him scanning their surroundings. He’s not simply avoiding her gaze anymore; he’s actually watching for the unexpected. Savii stands a target board up again, using some mud to mark the hole she’s already made in it, then turns to see Tomad doing the same for the last target.

“When’s the last time you shot a longbore blaster?”

“Uhh… you took Jiiv, Zari, n’me hunting for Lava weasels by the magma river.”

“Hm, a few months, then,” she says, remembering the day fondly. All of them had successfully taken prey, a first for both Jiiv and Zari. How proud the boys had been of themselves, especially when she’d had them all present their kills to the Tribe’s Matriarch as if they were adults. The fond warmth in their Al’Alor’s voice as she thanked the three young men-to-be for their contribution, and their delight in the praise they’d gotten from everyone. Life on Nevarro had been frustrating so very often, but there’d been only pride that day for Savii, in knowing she’d passed on knowledge and skill to future warriors. “Have you done much practice since then?”

“Just with pistols, nothing with a longer barrel,” Tomad admits as they walk back to the firing line she marked out. Savii nods.

“Well, you’ll get right back up to shape in no time,” she assures him warmly. “Let me see your prone posture.”

He accepts the sniper as she hands it to him, checking the charge level. Savii watches his hands critically to ensure he doesn’t touch the trigger until he’s ready to fire. Tomad lays down, shifting slightly to get comfortable, then puts the barrel of the sniping blaster over a log, pulling the butt of the gun tight to his shoulder. Savii nods to herself, seeing his finger resting on the trigger guard as he lines up.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he says.

“Fire away,” she replies.

The first shot flies, and Savii raises the Imperial binocs that Eyah gave the boy up to her visor to see his shooting. Tomad looks up at her, and she can sense the hopeful tilt of his shoulders.

“Hmm, bit high on the fifty yard target, don’t forget that I sight my long guns to shoot two inches high at a hundred yards to account for curvature.”

“Oh, I was… I was aiming for the center, it should’ve still hit…” Tomad says in disappointment.

“Let me see you do it again.”

This time, Savii watches him closely as he takes the shot, then lifts the binocs to check his accuracy. She looks back down to him. “Did you aim the same as last time?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, your shot went not as high, but to the left. Are you closing your eyes when you squeeze the trigger?”

“No!” he says indignantly. Savii chuckles despite herself. Before he’d come of age where he had to always keep his helmet on, she’d taught him the basics of shooting, and he’d never been one to reflexively close his eyes.

“Okay, let me see you take another shot,” she instructs, crouching down to watch his trigger hand. His index finger flexes as he goes to fire, the rest of his hand still. Another shot. She hums, grasping his wrist. “Squeeze the trigger, not pull. Clench your hand tight over the grip as your trigger finger bears down.”

“Oh. Right,” Tomad sounds embarrassed. Savii turns to watch the accuracy of this next shot.

“Excellent, you got a couple inches above the bullseye!” she crows proudly. Tomad lifts himself and she hands him the binocs to confirm for himself. “Alright, shoot the rest of them.”

“Yes, Savii.”

\---

“You haven’t forgotten too much,” Savii tells him as they set up targets that’d fallen over again. She’s holding one, indicating the holes Tomad shot into it. “You’re a better sniper than both of your fathers already.”

Tomad laughs at both the compliment and the dig at his parents. Both are the sort of warrior who is in the thick of the battle, excellent and quick with smaller arms and hand-to-hand combat. Either could theoretically snipe if he had to, but certainly, they would take longer to shoot less accurately than Savii, who can shoot a hole through an Imperial credit at two hundred yards. People? She could shoot them fatally from much further.

Besides, Korm’rk is a combat medic, the steadiness of his hands and character relates to tending his patients no matter what happens around him, and Savii knows little daunts him. Heck, even in a ship bucking and twisting wildly, he’d managed to keep the patient he was working on stable in front of him. Savii… she rolls her shoulder, still feeling the bruise from bouncing off a bulkhead.

“Thanks,” Tomad says, patting another target back into place. “I have a really good teacher.”

Savii makes a little noise, taking the Amban off her shoulder, then glancing up at Tomad. “Want to try shooting the pulse rifle?”

“Yes!” Tomad jumps to his feet, turning to look at her. “Really!?”

“You’ve proven accurate enough with the farsight, I know you won’t waste the shot,” she says, grinning at the clear delight Tomad feels at the idea. She understands so well; even with all the pressures of the moment, she’d felt a sense of joy when Hasal had given her the formidable weapon.

They return to the firing line and Savii hands the rifle over to Tomad, who reverently checks it over, looking to see if there’s a charge within, and finding that there isn’t, glances at her. Savii hands him the charge and he loads it carefully. Then he stretches out, taking careful aim. Savii watches down range as Tomad takes his time to pick the perfect shot.

He fires, and one of the targets disappears behind a shower of sparks as the bolt punches through it and dissipates its energy. Flesh impacted by a shot from the Amban dissolves rapidly, shot entering and then dispersing violently through the moist insides of a living thing. Near-instantaneous death. A creature of a certain size might not be fully destroyed, but such a large chunk of them would have functionally evaporated that they wouldn’t live very long. Savii doesn’t think such a death would hurt much either way, but she doesn’t really want to find out.

“Nicely done!” she says, seeing the scorch mark left behind. “We’d best go check that nothing’s smoldering.”

“Yeah,” Tomad hands her back the rifle and they walk to check on the target. Savii kicks it onto its front, chuckling at the nasty hole and small score marks all over the target, not to mention the damaged vegetation and soil in a cone behind the target. Nasty weapon. She’s examining a freshly-chipped rock when Tomad speaks hesitantly. “Uhm… S-Savii… Thanks for… y’know, not treating me weird.”

She pauses a moment, then stands up, looking back at him. “Why should I?”

Tomad looks down at his feet, shuffling. “I mean, _Buir’s_ been tense and nervous and I know he’s worried about Dad, but he knows I took off my helmet and I know he’s worried ‘bout me too and he’s afraid I’ll…”

“He’s worried you might decide not to become a Mandalorian,” Savii states lightly. Tomad nods, looking away. Savii contemplates her words, deciding what to say since Tomad’s brought up the subject.

“I… yeah. And Paz said it was okay and I was upset and scared because of what happened to Dad and we’re a small Tribe, we’re all gonna be family now so it didn’t count, but Edii pulled me out of the house and told me off about it when everyone else was sleeping and-”

“She what,” Savii says, not so much a question as disbelief.

Tomad’s shoulders hunch up uneasily, and he wraps his arms around himself. “She said that I was fifteen, I know better. I was shaming my family by doing that and-”

“Okay,” Savii says sharply to interrupt him. Tomad stops, clearly staring at her. “Tomad Kykal. I said it to your _buir_ and I’ll say it to you. There’s a reason why we swear the Creed twice; Once when we turn fourteen and once we’re true adults at eighteen.”

“I-yeah, but-”

“The four years between first swearing the Creed and becoming a True Adult exist to let you feel the adult expectations and adjust to them. If you break a convention or rule, you’re not going to be disfellowshipped over it. Manda knows a lot of teenagers purposely break the rules because some people at your age think they’re above the rules, they’re young, they invulnerable. It’s the most common age that a Mandalorian is forcibly unmasked by enemies because they’re overconfident.”

Savii drops her head forward. “You have a lot of responsibilities, you’re expected to follow our Creed like an adult now, but making mistakes isn’t punished as if you were an adult because it takes time to adjust to the new normal. You took off your helmet, I know. I saw, but it’s not my business unless you want it to be, and it certainly wasn’t Edii’s to pull you aside and scold you like that. It’s your business and your family’s business. That’s all.”

There’s a little sniff from under the boy’s helmet, and Tomad drops his gaze to the ground at Savii’s feet. “I guess I… I don’t know. I didn’t feel like a Mandalorian all of a sudden. I was scared, and there was so much happening and I was supposed to protect Vidri and Thal but all I wanted was to be told everything was okay, but Dad was… He… I thought he was gonna die. And _Buir_ wasn’t…”

“I know,” Savii wants to hug him, but he isn’t her family, and she isn’t sure if he’d want it from her. “Everything was too much, and suddenly you realized that this is the honorable battle that you’re supposed to find glory and joy in.”

Tomad looks up at her slowly, and nods. “I feel like everyone’s just… waiting for me to leave now. I took off my helmet and now they’re just waiting for me to realize that means I have to go… _Buir_ … it almost feels like he’s trying to pretend nothing happened.”

“No, we’re not,” Savii says, making a mental note to tell her uncle that next time, Edii’s family can stay in the same house as their clan, and Ruusaan and children could stay with the Kykals. Ruusaan has more tact than to do something like that. “And if Korm’rk’s acting like that… well, there’s a lot going on right now for him, so I don’t blame him for being stressed out about it, but you deserve better than that.”

Tomad sighs, sitting against the small hill, grabbing the top of a target and making it move around. “Thanks, I guess…”

“Tomad… do you still want to be a Mandalorian?” Savii asks, trying to find the right words. There’s a long silence, Tomad clearly staring at her without speaking.

“I… yes. I don’t want to lose my family. I don’t want to be _dar’manda._ ”

“You wouldn’t, even if you gave up the Creed,” Savii says. “We wouldn’t… you wouldn’t be sent away. You’d just cease to be a Mandalorian warrior.”

“But… I always hear about Hina, Yadel, Khep-”

“Yeah, well, they chose to walk away completely,” Savii says, sitting down beside him, dropping her head. “Tomad… you’re saying the names of my agemates. Yes, they were teenagers when they left, but it wasn’t because anyone made them. They, we… what happened to us was horrible, and they didn’t feel like Mandalorians anymore. It wasn’t giving up the creed, it was abandoning everything Mandalorian. Maybe they didn’t have enough support from their families, maybe they suffered worse than I did. Maybe there was just… something different between them and me.”

Tomad blinks at her, shifting around, one hand gripping his thigh. “I… no one’s really talked about what happened on the Night of a Thousand Tears. I know it was bad though. I don’t want to make you have to-”

Savii sighs, picking up a pebble and rolling it between her fingers. “The Empire was cracking down on Mandalore after we rose up against them. The _Mand’alor_ had declared the planet ours again. We’d chased out most of the Imperial occupation. Well, the adults had. I was… about your age. Being non-human, I’d managed to avoid being sent to one of the Imperial academies. They did that, you know, taking young Mandalorians away from their families and training them where they could try and make them grow up into Imperial warriors. They wanted the Mandalorian spirit and ferocity under their banner.”

Tomad nods.

“But then we were rising up against them, and they attacked in numbers and force. So our clans sent the children and teenagers to safety. We Recruits were sent across a plain to Keldabe city. It was supposed to be safe, our families were distracting the Imperials elsewhere and then… The gunships came.”

Savii takes a long breath to keep the memories from overwhelming her. “They swept over the field after and collected those of us who’d survived their E-webb cannons. They… processed us, they called it.”

Tomad shudders at the thought. “They took your helmets.”

“Yeah, forcibly bared everyone, among other things,” Savii looks down. “A lot happened there. If it wasn’t for some of the Imperial-aligned Mandalorians suddenly growing consciousnesses… I don’t know what would’ve happened. But most of us did escape in the end. None of us felt like Mandalorians after that. Our families took us in and took care of us, but most of my friends who had survived just… began to vanish. They couldn’t be Mandalorian anymore. It wasn’t because their helmets had come off, it was because they couldn’t bear to live the life, or be near it anymore. They could’ve become _Mando’vhett,_ they could’ve been civilians and still lived with or around their families. But they left it all behind, they chose to become _Dar’manda.”_

She sighs softly, startling when arms wrap around her. She smiles a little wryly at herself, returning Tomad’s hug. “Okay, okay. This wasn’t supposed to be my self-pity fest. It was years ago.”

“I know,” says Tomad, making to pull away awkwardly. Savii puts her arm around his shoulders, and he immediately presses back to her, tucking his helmet beside hers. She lets him cling. “But it was a lot worse than this.”

“So? This is still harsh. This is still the loss of home and the safety of our people,” Savii exhales, feeling a pang of longing for Buir, for their Matriarch, for her friends. “It’s not a competition for who has it worse. You’ve experienced your first real combat, and it’s not the usual way you’d have been introduced to it. It’s a lot.”

Tomad pulls away and sits beside her. “That doesn’t make me feel better. I mean it kind of does, but it also doesn’t.”

“Welcome to growing up,” Savii says wryly. “You’re not the first person to wonder if there’s something else out there, you know. If you chose to not become a Mandalorian, it doesn’t mean you have to give up Mandalorian culture. It was easier to be _ne’verd_ when we had the homeworld, but it is possible. You could maybe even do great things on behalf of the tribe by walking around uncovered, just another face in the crowd. Deciding not to keep to the Creed doesn’t make all your knowledge and skill fade away like mist.”

“I guess,” Tomad sighs softly. “But why aren’t there any _ne’verd_ in our Tribe then?”

“There were. What about your uncle Ramik? It’s been like a decade, I don’t think he was ever at Nevarro, but you might remember him,” Savii says lightly. “One of my _ba’vod’ue_ was _ne’verd_ too, but… the family’s reasonably sure she died.”

“Ba’vod’u Ramik was _Ne’verd_?” Tomad leans his helmet against a hand, clearly confused. “I remember him. Sort of. I thought he died when I was little.”

“I don’t think so,” Savii muses. “At least I don’t recall your _buir_ ever mentioning it. Korm’rk would mention communicating with him occasionally. He stayed behind on Xiphol when the Covert had to relocate quickly, but I think that your _buir_ still could contact him sometimes. It probably wasn’t safe to tell him where to go to meet us, though.”

“Oh,” Tomad folds his arms over his knees. “I mean… huh.”

He paused for a bit, staring across the field to where they were using a log as their firing line. “Maybe if he’s still alive, we could go see him.”

“Might be worth mentioning to your _buir_ to bring up. Maybe he’s well-situated now.”

Tomad lays back in the grass, and Savii looks at him, tilting her head a little, smiling sadly, though he can’t see it. “I guess… if I could still be _mando’ad_ , even if I wasn’t A Mandalorian… I could do that. Maybe. I just don’t know. What if I changed my mind? I wouldn’t be able to.”

“I’m sure you could as long as you changed your mind before you turned eighteen. Maybe there’s some way to become _Mando’verd_ after that for _Mando’vhett_ ,” Savii comments. “I mean, your buir- Satrina, he didn’t become Mandalorian until he was a full adult. I was a kid when he first joined the tribe.”

“Oh yeah,” Tomad flops an arm over his chest, fingers tapping away at his shirt. “I knew that.”

“You should talk to him about it, I bet he knows a lot of things that I don’t have words for because he had to learn it to become Mandalorian,” she suggests. Tomad seems to hesitate.

“Ko-buir doesn’t want him to know about this, he doesn’t want Dad to be stressed out more than he has to right now.”

“Hm,” Savii sighs, patting Tomad’s shoulder. “Well, I think Satrina knows something’s off there. Edii made a comment, not giving any names, that maybe we only have one recruit now, and he cottoned on to it, and got tense when your Ko-buir snapped at her. It might be kinder for him to know what’s going on.”

“But _buir_ said-”

“It’s your life, and what’s happening to you, Tomad. In the end it’s your choice to talk about it or not.”

Tomad pauses, fiddling with his shirt, and then sitting up. “Thanks Savii. I do feel better now. I still need to think about stuff, but I feel better.”

“That’s good.” She gives the lad’s shoulder a companionable squeeze.

“When’d you decide you were still gonna be a Mandalorian?” he asks hesitantly. Savii hums to show that she’s thinking about it.

“I’m not sure, _buir_ was always just there for me, caring and being there when I needed them. They said that I was their daughter no matter what, and they wanted me happy above all else. No matter what I chose, as long as they knew I felt whole, they’d support that and they’d still love me.”

She pulls up a little grass. “I went through the motions a lot, but I guess eventually I just stopped wondering if I was good enough to be a Mandalorian. I endured, I survived. Leaving like most of my friends… I didn’t want to leave behind _buir_. I felt safest with them. I didn’t know if I wanted to be Mando’verd, but they said that even if I didn’t become a warrior, learning to fight wasn’t a bad thing, did I want to practice? It was something I could control, especially sniping. Suddenly I was a few days away from my eighteenth birthday and I realized I didn’t feel like a liar wearing my helmet. I was still a Mandalorian.”

Tomad crosses his legs, leaning his elbows on them. “I guess I can keep trying. Until I know for sure. Right?”

“You can, no matter what Edii or anyone else says.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m still Tomad Kykal. I’m still my fathers’ son,” he blows out a long breath, maybe about to add more, but then he glances up and freezes. “Savii! Look!”

Savii follows his pointing finger. At first, she sees nothing, then at the treeline, seventy-five yards away, there is movement. A four-legged creature steps daintily out of the bush. It is a strange greenish-brown with a pale belly and great big ears with fuzzy-looking prongs growing from it’s skull. Her eyes track to its mouth, spotting fangs like those she’d considered on the skull seen earlier. “Cervidenta, hmm?”

“Yeah, a buck! Look, his antlers are fuzzy, she didn’t say anything about that,” Tomad says in an excited whisper. “Savii, can we hunt it?”

“Well, you did say the homesteader wants one,” Savii says, watching the animal’s ears flick around. It turns its delicate-looking head, watching them. She slowly eases her farsight longbore off her shoulder. “Do you want to do it?”

Tomad hesitates a long moment, watching the creature take a cautious step out into the clearing, it’s head turning to look at them again. He reaches out for the long gun and slowly adjusts himself into a kneeling position, not wanting to spook the creature.

“That’s it, deep breath, don’t let your excitement ruin your aim,” Savii murmurs. “Aim for the ribs, just behind the elbow, take a breath and squeeze on the exhale.”

There’s a long pause, the Cervidenta standing and staring at them, clearly ready to flee if they approach, and if Tomad scares it, there won’t be time for another shot. There’s no sense lining up with the Amban; there’d be nothing left to eat if Savii shot it with that. Then a shot, Savii sees the blaster bolt hit, a wisp of smoke, the creature runs-

It drops after only a couple steps. Savii claps Tomad on the shoulder, bursting with pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dar'manda: a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditionall-minded Mando'ade  
> Mando’ad: Mandalorian  
> Mando’verd: Mandalorian Warrior  
> Mando’vhett: (Literally: Mandalorian Farmer) Mandalorian Civilian.  
> Ne’verd: Civilian


	9. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time to relax, but stress comes to the surface

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aurodium Sword is a canon Mercenary gang, led by Clone Trooper Muzzle (Alpha-66). He went Mando and rogue from the army and formed the group, which is noted for having a LOT of wookies in it. Figured he’d probably have picked up the occasional Mando too.
> 
> Nakar Adate: Unknown people  
> Gaan’joha: Mandalorian sign language (semi-official document states it’s used in the field by soldiers and usually one-handed)  
> Ner ad’e: My children

* * *

“Sorry about your cape,” Tomad comments as Savii uses the aforementioned sheet of sturdy fabric to tie the cleaned prey to the simple pole drag they’ve devised.

“Eh, that’s what our capes are for. Hauling bodies,” she says dismissively. Not really, though it can be one purpose. The favored material of a Mandalorian cape can muffle a blade and shield the wearer’s back from some small arms fire. It is shelter against the cold or unfriendly eyes that might catch th gleam of armor. It is the shroud of a dead warrior, or bundled up as a pillow in a battle camp. Right now, Savii’s using hers to protect Tomad’s freshly cleaned and skinned kill from dirt and dust as she ties the folded corners to the sturdy two-inch thicktree they’d cut down with some creative use of Savii’s vibroblade. The butt of the pole can drag the ground, and the smaller branch they’ve tied across the elevated end will let them haul it together. “Let’s head back.”

Tomad hums happily, grabbing his side of the pole drag, and Savii comes to grab the other, and they drag it down the path. They don’t speak, saving their strength for the labor of their bodies. As they come into view of the homestead, they see all of the children running free in the grass, overseen by most of the adults. Savii spots her uncle leaned against the side of the guest house, ankles crossed casually.

As they get closer, several of the children notice them and come running over. Before they’re within earshot, Tomad speaks to Savii briefly. “I uh… just wanted to say thanks, Savii. For talking to me and not… being like Edii.”

Savii lets out a strained chuckle. “You’re not alone, _vod’ika_. We never want you to feel that way.”

“Thank you, really,” he says, and then they’re being swarmed by Vidri, Thal, Kaedo and Zari. Nkui comes to investigate the bundle they’re hauling with Uba, and Savii scolds them playfully for being in the way. She notices Raela hanging back by the house, lurking in Ruusaan’s shadow.

Her uncle approaches, and she’s more than happy to let him untie the buck’s carcass from the pole and lift the whole bundle to his shoulder. She and Tomad toss the pole to the side and walk back to the group.

“What’cha get?” asks the homesteader from the front porch of her home, holding a mug of something steaming.

“Tomad shot a Cervidenta that he spotted,” Savii says loudly, spotting Korm’rk coming out of the guest house. The medic straightens at the words, walking over, but it’s Paz, nearest, who smacks Tomad good-naturedly on the back for it.

“Good kill.”

“Thanks!” Tomad’s grin is easily recognized, even through the blank T-visor. His posture only brightens as his buir playfuly grasps the top of his helm and shakes it side to side. “Buir!”

“Nicely done,” says the homeowner, pushing to her feet. “Here, bring that over to the shed and let it hang, we’ve got a few hours until the clinic closes and things quiet down in town, we can butcher it.”

“You’re certainly a jack of all trades,” Ruusaan comments good-naturedly.

“Ah, general homesteading skill,” says Mareenh dismissively, showing Paz where to put the buck “Yes, just like that, thank you.”

Savii takes her cape back and gives it a shake with a wry chuckle. “Well, best clean this again.”

“I haven’t done my own cape yet,” Korm’rk says. “Mind if I come with you and toss mine in with yours?”

“Not at all,” Savii answers cheerfully, suspecting he wants a word. She gives Tomad a friendly gesture, which he hardly seems to notice, too busy telling his little siblings how he got the buck. Together they head into the house, Savii glancing over her shoulder briefly to see the homesteader following a few paces behind, but once they enter and head downstairs, Mareenh veers for the kitchen.

Downstairs, they put their capes in the laundry, Savii tossing in her gloves for good measure while glancing at Korm’rk out of the side of her visor.

 _“Thanks for taking him out,”_ he says to her in mando’a, his voice drained.

 _“Eyah suggested I take him shooting with me, give him a break from everyone else,”_ Savii answers in the same language, shrugging a shoulder. _“It’s good to see he’s kept his skill with the sniping blaster up.”_

 _“I’m just glad that he seems happy again,”_ Korm’rk says. Then he glances to the staircase, before turning to Savii. _“I told the other adults already, so now I’m telling you what I found hiding in the guest house.”_

 _“Mm?”_ Savii looks at what he holds out, then blinks at what appears to be a patch, meant to be stitched to clothing. A sword piercing through a stylized planet, two triangles. Tidy and evocative. _“That logo looks kinda familiar.”_

 _“Aurodium Sword, it was a mercenary group run by a Mandalorian. Lots of Wookiees, too,”_ Korm’rk answers _. “Don’t know how active they are nowadays, but they did have a bit of a reputation in Empire days. Satrina’s teacher worked with them.”_

 _“Grier worked for them?”_ Savii asks, blinking. The woman had been known to her as a teenager, but she’d died years ago. Vaguely Savii thinks she might’ve seen that insignia on Grier Vai’s left pauldron. Korm’rk nods. “ _Where’d you find it?”_

_“It slipped between the frame of the bed in the master bedroom and the wall. I was moving the bed so Satrina wouldn’t roll off by accident and it fell to the ground.”_

_“Hm,”_ Savii considers the information. _“Well, it explains why Mareenh can pronounce a few of our words so well for an outsider if she’s worked with our people before. She most definitely understands more Mando’a than she lets on if she’s done work for one of our mercenary groups enough that one of their sigils is laying around.”_

_“Eyah’s tempted to hack her comms now, but your uncle said to leave it be.”_

_“Could our host contact them on our behalf?”_

_“S’a possibility, I think the lot of you are gonna be discussing it while she and I take Satrina in for surgery,”_ he says. _“I don’t like the idea of it, though. She made no mention of knowing other Mandalorians, and we don’t know for sure where these others’ loyalties lie. It’s been a long time since one of our tribe was part of their band.”_

Savii nods her agreement there. _“Thanks for telling me. I’ll keep my eyes out for anything suspicious.”_

Korm’rk nods, and the two of them head back up the stairs, away from the rumbling laundry machine that would’ve disguised their conversation should anyone be listening.

\---

“I’ll do these steaks now for everyone,” the homesteader says, holding up a platter of meats she and Paz have cut off the cervidenta that Savii and Tomad brought in. “Then he’s insisting that he gets to cook one whole side of the rump as a roast.”

Savii looks at her uncle, who’s holding an entire deboned quarter that she suspects weighs more than thirty pounds. “That’s a lot of meat to cook all at once.”

“If you don’t mind me stealing some of your growing herbs and spices, I’d love to try for something sort of traditional that I haven’t had in decades,” Paz rumbles in Mareenh’s direction. “It’ll need to cook at low temperature until tomorrow afternoon, though.”

The homeowner chuckles agreeably. “Sure, I’m pretty curious about it, you were certainly talking a big game about it.”

Paz makes a pleased noise, heading for the main house. Savii watches him go, then turns to check on Zari. He and Jiiv are visible down by the creek, Zari’s expression focused as he stalks something. Probably a frog, Savii assumes. She can see Jiiv clearly egging him on and chuckles. She turns her attention to approaching footsteps, and inclines her head to Korm’rk.

“Have you seen Tomad?” he asks, Thal over his shoulder and kicking his legs while giggling madly. Vidri is running around nearby, Savii’s pretty sure, and if Korm’rk isn’t looking for her, he knows where she is.

“Not since he and I got back with the buck,” she lies without hesitation. He’d headed into the guesthouse a few minutes ago, presumably to check on and possibly talk to Satrina. “He can’t be too far off, though.”

“Right, thanks,” Korm’rk takes his young son off his shoulder, looking at Thal’s face and sighing dramatically. “If I let you go, will you keep your clothes on this time?”

“Yes!” Thal declares, squirming to be let down, but Korm’rk keeps a firm hold of him.

“You promise? Even when I take Na-buir and you have to stay with your Ori’vod?”

“No!” Thal giggles, squirming harder.

“No? Well then, you’ll just have to stay in my arms!” Korm’rk declares. Savii chuckles good-naturedly at the scene, glad Korm’rk can find the energy to indulge his children, despite the stress he’s under. Thal shrieks out ‘No! No! No!’ at his father’s words, cackling away like a madman.

Savii hopes Tomad has the time he needs to talk to Satrina without it stressing Korm’rk further.

\---

She’s sharpening her poor vibroblade, which is a bit worse for wear after being used to cut down a tree. Actually, it’s impressive how little damage the knife’s taken. Despite the time constraints she must’ve been under, their Tribe’s Alor made an incredible tool. Savii’s pausing to admire the blade when unfamiliar movement out of the corner of her gaze has her looking around.

On the dirt road that winds through the property, barely glimpsed though the trees, is an approaching Eopie with rider.

She whips her gaze around to the group, the kids spread around the two houses, other adults supervising then, then back to the approaching stranger-

 _“Nakar Adate!”_ it’s Eyah’s voice that rings out, and as one, everyone freezes. Then the children immediately swarm into the nearest building. Savii, perched on a rock wall closer to the forest than the houses rolls off the stone to the ground and lays prone, glancing towards the houses, glad to see Zari disappearing through the main house’s front door. The other adults follow behind, though Savii sees Edii seemingly melt into a thick bush. The homesteader steps out of the front door of her home, wiping her hands on a cloth, expression mildly curious. Savii sees the woman’s eyes flick to her, then in the direction in which Edii vanished, then towards the approaching rider.

Savii can hear the Eopie hooves clattering past her hiding place, and she crawls into a bush, unsure if the rider will glance back in her direction. The homesteader greets this new guest politely.

“Gunnar, what brings you visiting?”

“Hey doc, sorry to ride up on you,” says a man’s voice. It sounds… vaguely familiar? Curious, Savii cautiously peeks out of her hiding place, watching as the man dismounts his Eopie. “Myle called all convinced something’s wrong out here because you called in to the clinic.”

“Oh,” the homesteader blows out a sigh of exasperation. “I _told_ her that one of the Jerbas had colic.”

“Yeah, so she said, but she managed to convince herself you were speaking in code and no matter the reassurances I gave her, she was convinced you were in danger.”

Savii swears she knows the man’s voice from somewhere, and his accent is… she’s definitely heard it before.

“Well, as you can see, all is well,” Mareenh says, spreading her hands while curling the fingers of one. “Apocalypse finally started eating normally again, so I was just about to have a shower and rest up.”

“Ah, fair enough,” says the man. “Smells like you found time to cook something.”

“Oh, just reheated leftovers,” the woman laughs. “Tell your dad I said hello, won’t you?”

“Uhm, there’s footprints in the mud over there, are you sure that-” Savii’s blood runs cold at that, but Mareenh cuts off the man before he can continue.

“I did walk Apocalypse along the river. Was hoping she’d want to drink if the water was right in front of her,” she spreads her hands casually and rotates her wrist. This time, Savii realizes the woman’s gestures aren’t nervous movements, they’re deliberate signs. She tenses at the realization.

“Ah well, I can truthfully tell Myle that nothing’s going on, then. Sorry for the trouble, doc.”

“Could be worse, you could have caught me in the shower,” says the homesteader. “Sorry to make you come all the way out here, won’t you let me grab you some preserved sweetberries to take back with you?”

“If you’re offering, I won’t turn you down, you know how fast my family goes through sweetberries,” chuckles the man. The homesteader nods, disappearing into her house, and Savii wonders if she’s taking the moment to say something to anyone in the building. Then the homesteader reappears, holding a package out to the man. Savii ducks back down as he turns to put the package in his saddle bag. Hearing the eopie’s hooves clattering down the trail past her again is a relief. She can see the homesteader absently wiping her hands on the hem of her shirt, watching rider and mount leave.

Savii lifts herself slightly, hesitant to come out of her hiding place until she’s sure the rider’s gone. The homesteader runs both hands through her short hair, then looks around.

“He’s out of earshot.”

Savii sighs, pushing to her feet. She spots Edii materializing out of the bushes and quirks a lip at the shorter woman’s posture; Savii feels just as uneasy about the situation. Paz stalks his way out of the main house, and Savii notes that the homesteader moves out of his way without even looking back at him.

Slightly odd. Savii would call it luck if it wasn’t for the way Edii slowly turns her whole body to face the homesteader, clearly contemplating her. The homesteader looks at Edii, tilting her head slightly, expression studiously neutral. Savii approaches, seeing Eyah striding purposely towards the homesteader, planting himself at her shoulder and distracting the tense moment with an almost unsure voice.

“That was a clone.”

Oh, well. That would explain why Savii thought the stranger’s voice was familiar. He’d sounded like Eyah, albeit younger. His accent had been a little different, though. Eyah’s voice is strongly tinged with Concord Dawn inflection, something that most of the Covert’s Young Elders share, as did that young man. The homesteader nods at him.

“Last generation before the Empire destroyed the old facilities,” she tells Eyah. “And yes, he does look too young, I know. His father - another clone, he had some contacts who I guess found a cure for the accelerated aging. Which - speaking of, do you-”

“I don’t need it,” Eyah cuts her off curtly. “But thanks. Were you signing ‘all good’ at him or at me?”

“Oh, I thought that was sign language of some sort!” Savii comments, watching the homesteader. If Mareenh’s concerned about her signing being spotted, she doesn’t show it; all she does is shrug at Eyah.

“Both of you, really. I know full well you’d understand the old ARC signs, I’m not stupid.”

“And he understands the signs?” Eyah asks curiously. Mareenh nods, swatting at a bug that lands on her neck.

“His father was formerly known as Commander Blitz.”

“Oh.”

Savii isn’t sure what to make of the way Eyah shifts his weight, looking towards the road, then at Mareenh, then back to the road again. Edii follows his gaze, and then pats Eyah’s bicep once. It seems to snap the Elder out of his indecision; he turns and heads back into the house. The homesteader watches him go, her eyes sad.

\---

As the sun starts to lower itself far enough to kiss the faraway line of the horizon, Savii holds Vidri in her arms. They’re watching as Paz and Eyah carry a stretcher with Satrina on it down to the cart that Mareenh has hitched to her Jerbas again. Korm’rk walks beside his husband, hand on the blue-armored warrior’s shoulder.

On her right, Zari shifts his weight uneasily. On her left, Tomad is holding a squirming Thal. Despite everything, the littlest of the Kykal children knows something’s wrong, and he desperately wants to go to his fathers and see the problem resolved. Vidri sits in Savii’s arms placidly, but she watches intently as Satrina is loaded into the cart and Korm’rk climbs in beside him. Seeing his fathers riding away, Thal starts to cry, needing to be comforted and shushed by his older brother. Still, Vidri makes no sound.

Vidri never shows her upsets. It amazes Savii to think that though half of her short life has been lived with Mandalorians, some part of Vidri remembers a time when crying meant bad things would happen to make her stop. Savii shakes herself from her reverie and gently strokes the little girl’s head, offering comfort Vidri had once learned not to seek.

“Don’t you worry, _ad’ika_ , one sleep, and your Na-buir will be back home and feeling much better. Tonight Zari and me will sleep over with you, and you know what that means, right?”

Vidri looks at her. “Means’what?”

Savii tilts her head to indicate her smile, and stage-whispers conspiratorially, timing the moment so her words fall when Thal’s sobs have briefly eased. “It means we’re gonna have some chocolates before we brush our teeth!”

Vidri lets out a gasp, eyes going as round as saucers. Candies are a rare commodity for the Tribe, and Savii would be surprised if either of these two had ever had any chocolate before. But everyone knows chocolate is the tastiest thing ever, or so people say. Thal seems startled by his sisters reaction, at least enough so that he isn’t fixated on the departure of his fathers.

“Choc’te? Where’d you get it?” Vidri asks in a whisper, as if afraid saying it out loud might make the unseen chocolate vanish forever.

“I can’t say, that’s a secret,” Savii says playfully. The answer is simple; she spotted a bar of it in the house and asked the homesteader if she minded if Savii stole it to distract the little ones while their _buir’e_ were away. Mareenh had handed her the candy bar without a second thought. Vidri doesn’t need to know that, though.

When Savii glances down the road again, the cart is turning into the forest, only occasional glimpses visible through the foliage.

\---

“There’s something off about her.”

“Yeah? What makes you say that?” Paz asks of Edii, leaning back against the barn. Edii’s been mildly agitated since the surprise visitor, and is finally bringing up what concerns her now that the children are asleep. Jiiv and Tomad are keeping an eye on the youngsters, if they haven’t also dozed off.

Edii’s right fingers tap against her left vambrace as she considers her words. “She reacts to situations like… well, a bit like a Zeltron. She appears human, though.”

“What do you mean?” Ruusaan asks curiously.

“I’ve watched her react a few times to someone approaching noiselessly from behind,” Edii explains. “As if she can just sense them. Zeltrons can sense other people’s… emotional auras, I suppose I should say. She clearly does because she finds an excuse to drift away from whomever's angriest in the group, including the moment she gave Paz quite a side-eye when he was sitting by the door after that clone rode up,” She pauses, glancing at Paz. “Then she went and found an excuse to put Eyah between herself and him. Not to mention recognizing Eyah specifically before he even spoke when he was wearing armor she’s never seen before. That’s a very Zeltron trait; to recognize someone with no cues.”

“She knows a little mando’a and it looks like she’s done work with Aurodium Sword,” opines Ruusaan reasonably. “She may just be skilled at reading our body language. Though recognizing the elder like that… hm.”

“Maybe…”

“Well,” Eyah says, drumming the fingers of his mechanical right arm on his cuisse. Savii notes that he hasn’t found a replacement glove yet; the bare metal fingers are still clear through the shredded fabric. “She was always a little… peculiar. Had a talent for tracking down people who were trying to stay hidden. Like I said, she was a bit… involved with some of the higher-ups in the clone army. The Alpha class that Jango Fett trained personally. Frightening bunch, them, and Blitz is still around…”

He trails off, turning his head back to the road, maybe lost in thought. Savii clears her throat to distract him.

“When you say involved, do you mean romantically-?”

“I eh… no, I don’t think so,” Eyah hums. “Maybe Commander Colt, but I honestly think they were messing with us- me that one time. But she has light fingers, and she’d hand me and my partner datadisks once in a while to pass on to the Alpha clones on Kamino. There was some kind of low-level rebellion amongst some clones, wanting to gain rights as persons, fighting back against the Kaminoans who treated us like cattle.”

“So she was an ally against the so-called ‘good guys’ who were using you as slaves,” Savii translates slowly. Eyah nods.

“Like I said, she helped me escape during the rising days of the Empire. Not an easy thing to do.”

“This isn’t convincing me that Edii’s wrong about there being something up with that woman,” Paz grumbles. “She seems nice enough, but I don’t want to linger here longer than it takes for Korm’rk to be sure Satrina will recover well. This Mareenh is a dangerous woman and we don’t know her loyalties.”

“If she’s still loyal to the clones,” Eyah comments. “Then I’d assume she’ll look out for us for my sake.”

Paz grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, Korm’rk will keep her busy with Satrina tonight. I do want a watch, just in case. I’ll take the midnight shift.”

Savii nods appreciatively of her uncle immediately giving himself the worst watch shift of the night. He’ll get three hours of sleep, then have his watch, and then get three more hours. Everyone else will get four to five straight hours of sleep, and a nap. It’s a leaderly thing to do, though constantly taking midnight shifts would affect his alertness levels.

But for now, everyone’s content to pick their shifts, Savii taking the shift after her uncle’s.

\---

The night passes peacefully. Savii stays standing during her shift to keep from falling asleep, but little happens but for a few small creatures passing through the yard on their way to other places. When Edii comes to replace her, Savii’s more than happy to head back downstairs for a catnap before morning.

When she rouses and heads back upstairs, she finds Edii in deep discussion with Jiiv, of all people, on the topic of breakfast, the both of them sitting on the couch. Savii pauses to listen in, grinning behind her helmet as Jiiv passionately describes the whipped topping the Homesteader said was in the conserver and that he found and tasted. Edii responds to him in a serious tone, with only the slightest hint of adult patronization.

“Well, I’d leave it on the side for everyone to help themself, not on top,” she tells the lad. She pauses, glancing towards Savii and inclining her head. “Hmm, seems that it’s time to get the breakfast started.”

Savii nods silently, inclining her head in a friendly smile as Edii turns towards the kitchen. Jiiv turns in his seat to watch her go, but doesn’t stand up to follow the other Mandalorian like Savii might’ve expected. Instead, he slumps back against the couch. “Alright?”

“Yeah just… sore joints and I have a headache,” Jiiv shrugs. “I didn’t bring any of my meds.”

“Ahh, that’s not fun,” Savii says, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Going into withdrawal?”

“Yeah, kinda… I was due for a shot… the day after we left Nevarro, I guess, and I didn’t bring any of the pills that keep my levels stable near the end of the cycle,” he mutters. “I should’ve, but I forgot.”

“Ah well, that happens. Let Korm’rk know, he’ll find you something, I'm sure,” Savii says, though she wonders if Korm’rk would’ve even thought to bring extra hormones along. Jiiv shrugs.

“I thought about telling him yesterday but there’s… you know, a lot of more important stuff going on.”

Savii squeezes her cousin’s shoulder comfortingly. “Well, that’s true. For now, at least we’ll have a good breakfast, right?”

Jiiv brightens at the reminder, shifting in his chair to glance towards the kitchen. “Yeah! I woke up early and I thought I could help make breakfast but it kinda hurts to stand right now. But I should go help.”

“Be easy on that ankle, you didn’t twist it that long ago,” Savii warns. “Leg injuries can become permanent very easily.”

She would know, after all. The old Strill bite twinges at the thought.

Jiiv settles back into the couch and crosses his arms with a sigh. “I guess.”

“I’ll go help Edii with breakfast if you keep an eye out the window for anything suspicious,” she adds. “Korm’rk and the homesteader should be back with Satrina soon enough, if they don’t want to draw attention in down.”

Jiiv nods agreeably, and Savii heads for the kitchen.

\---

Making breakfast is a quiet affair. Savii doesn’t know Edii very well, and right now her opinion of the other woman is rather coloured, considering what Tomad’s told her yesterday. It makes Savii feel slightly uncomfortable, unwilling to broach conversation other than what’s needed for cooking. If Edii can sense her mood and connect it to her own presence, she holds her peace on the matter.

As they’re finishing what has turned into a giant plate of scrambled eggs and random vegetables that smelled like they’d be tasty, Jiiv peeks into the kitchen.

“I see the Jerbas and cart coming back with the lady driving it but no Korm’rk or Satrina.”

Edii turns off the burner on the stove, and then she and Savii follow Jiiv out of the house to see the homesteader returning. As the cart rolls up, they can see Satrina laid out in the back of the cart, his armor stacked neatly at his side, though his helmet is still on and a light blanket is covering his body. Korm’rk is sprawled ungracefully at his husband’s side, posture screaming of exhaustion. Savii exhales with relief, stepping out to meet the cart.

“Good morning,” she says to the Homesteader, who nods, dark circles visible under her eyes. Then Savii glances to Korm’rk, who pushes himself upright. “We’ve been making breakfast, do you want something to eat?”

“That’d be wonderful, thank you,” says Mareenh tiredly. Korm’rk nods, using _gaan’joha_ to sign out his answer.

_Yes._

Savii hums at the brief gesture, but turns her head, only to see Edii already appearing with a large plate that she hands to Korm’rk. The short woman then turns to the homesteader.

“On the table in your kitchen. Korm’rk, you go to your room and rest, We’ll bring Satrina in for you and keep watching your children until you’re rested.”

Korm’rk nods without speaking, but he stands there, holding his plate, until Savii and Edii move to take the stretcher carrying his husband. He follows alongside, helmet tilted, clearly watching Satrina every step of the way. Savii focuses on where she steps, mindful not to jostle the injured man as they enter the guest house. Inside are Edii’s children, intently focused on a game of holochess.

Arivi and Kaedo beam up at their mother, the elder adjusting her toy helmet in her lap. Edii tilts her head fondly, asking them to open the door to the other bedroom, and the children scramble to get it. They bring the stretcher into the bedroom and rest it on the bed so Korm’rk can pull his husband onto it safely after setting his plate on the ground. Once he’s done sorting out Satrina’s position, Korm’rk looks around, then at Savii, speaking in a hoarse whisper.

_“Ner ad’e?”_

“Still asleep with my clan,” Savii tells him. Korm’rk bows his head and gestures out a _thank you_ in sign. Savii returns the head-bow, then turns to leave him be. Behind her, Edii shuts the door and leans the stretcher on the wall for now. Then she turns to her children.

“How about we go for a walk and check on the ship?”

“Aw _Buir_ , I’m winning!” Kaedo pouts, but Edii puts her hands on her hips.

“The game will be here when you get back, let’s give Korm’rk and Satrina some time to rest peacefully.”

The children whine a bit, but Edii sternly herds them outside the house, and Savii smiles to herself in amusement while heading back to the main house. She finds the homeowner sitting at the small table in the kitchen, picking away at the plate that had been handed to her.

“Oh hello,” says Mareenh, covering a yawn with her wrist.

“Good morning,” Savii says, pulling up a chair and settling into it comfortably. “How did the surgery go?”

“Hmm… well, I’d say. It was a bit tricky because your doctor… ah… Korm-ark... wouldn’t let me help with vitals monitoring, but we got it done, and he looks like… Satrina will recover well.”

“Korm’rk,” Savii says mildly. “No ‘ah’ sound in there.”

“I’m terrible with the glottal stop your people use,” the Homesteader admits with a wry smile. She pauses to sip at her drink. “I’m glad you’re comfortable using the kitchen, though.”

She pauses, glancing at the stove, then at Savii. “May I ask a question?”

“You just did,” Savii replies, having a guess what it might be about. It’s the helmet, always the helmet they ask about.

Sure enough, the homesteader proves her right. “Does your group never reveal your faces to anyone but family? I’ve… encountered a couple Mandalorians in my life - during the Clone Wars - and I don’t recall them having a problem pulling off their helmets. But it’s… been a long time.”

“Hmmfff,” Savii crosses her arms and leans on the table, not minding the question too much since it’s phrased with curiosity instead of the usual amusement or disdain. “I think some people would tell you it’s a difference in opinion of what makes a Mandalorian. And there were always… different ways of adhering to the creed, I guess.”

She considers how to explain what she’s thinking about, and the homesteader doesn’t interrupt her thoughts, sipping at a cup of tea instead. Finally, Savii tries to explain.

“Revealing our faces shows the individual beneath. The idea of being a Mandalorian is that I’m part of a greater whole, and that who I am under my gear, what I am, is irrelevant. But to remove my helmet would show… well,” she pauses, lifting a hand and pushing her glove to reveal the skin of her wrist. The Homesteader’s eyes flicker there briefly. “I am a Mandalorian, not an aien Mandalorian. But some people don’t see it that way.”

“The first thing anyone should know about me is that I’m a Mandalorian. Race, gender, appearance. None of that matters. Showing my face, or really, anything of myself takes away from that. If they cannot see my face, I can only be judged as a Mandalorian, nothing else. Some don’t think it’s necessary to conceal themselves so, but…”

Savii gives a small shrug. “Most of _those_ Mandalorians are human.”

“I see,” the woman considers that, idly playing with her mug. “Conversely, if many Mandalorians looked identical under their armor, but marked their gear differently, or… adjusted their vocalizers, who could tell?”

Savii chuckles slightly. “Indeed. I don’t know… well, think, that the rules were always like this, honestly. _Buir_ sometimes says…said-”

Ouch, that stings somewhere deep in the chest.

“-Things that implied more lax rules. But nowadays, it’s also a practical thing. If the Mandalorian life ever became too much, the Empire’s pressure too intense… If one can only be recognized by their helmet, their armor, the simple act of removal and walking away…”

She trails off before her voice can hitch. The homesteader’s eyes have gone round, but she doesn’t speak, only nods mutely.

Savii sighs. “Anyway. The last Mand’alor did remove her helmet, and we still recognized her authority. But the Mand’alor is one who must lead all, and be trusted. They are a symbol of our people, our face to the outside. There is a difference there between them and the average Mandalorian. Not all Mand’alor’e would show their face, though. Mereel, who was the last of the Great Mand’alor’e, never showed his face.”

Mareenh nods slowly, clearly still absorbing the information. “I could ask you a lot of questions, but I’ll try your patience later. I’m not going to remember much else for a while.”

“It was a long night, longer for you, I’m sure,” Savii says formally. “We’ll try and keep it down for your sake.”

“Thank you,” says the former Imperial, finishing her plate and standing up. Savii watches her for a moment, before speaking.

“One question of my own, though,” she says. “Where did you meet Mandalorians?”

Mareenh pauses, then glances back at her, smile sad. “During the Clone Wars, there were a couple of the… _cuy’val dar_ still training new troops. I was stationed on Kamino and met them a couple times.”

“Hmm,” Savii nods, filing the information away in case it might come in handy later. Perhaps Eyah can explain who ‘ _those who no longer exist’_ were to her.

\--

“I’m actually appalled to know Mandalorians took part in that at all,” Ruusaan says once Eyah has finished explaining the history of the _Cuy’val Dar_ and their part in the creation of the clone army. “I know Fett is considered _Dar’manda_ in some places, but I thought it was all propaganda by Mand’alor the Weak to discredit the previous ruling clan.”

“It’s.. complicated, no doubt,” Eyah shrugs. “I never met the Mandalorian trainers; they had little influence by the time the Jedi took over on Kamino, but I do know those who were around tended to be kinder to the clones and more vocal about treating us well… in general.”

“Add it to the crimes of the past that we’re all still suffering from,” Paz grumbles, shoulders tense. Savii finds herself torn between rolling her eyes at his frustrated mood and patting his shoulder sympathetically. Mention of Mand’alor the Weak never fails to get her uncle’s hackles up as he knew the man personally, having been drafted into his private guard as a youngling due to blood relation.

Savii doesn’t much like mention of that man either, and she hadn’t even been born by the time of his death, but that’s neither here nor there. Vizsla is a common enough family name, even now that Mandalorian numbers are thin, and though she is a Ranov, Savii is also a Vizsla, raised as much by her _Buir’s_ siblings as her _buir_ themself.

Luckily most of the tribe doesn’t know that this particular Vizsla branch shares more than just a common last name with Mandalore the Weak. Perhaps they wouldn’t care, for a Mandalorian is judged on their own achievements, but to be directly connected to one who had failed them so brutally… no, many of them, even here, all bear the shame of having been part of the _kyr’tsad._

She clears her throat and changes both the subject of conversation and her thoughts.

“Korm’rk didn’t say anything, but the homesteader seemed happy with how the surgery went.”

“Good, that’s good. Do we know how long he’ll need to recover?” asks Paz. Savii shrugs, but it’s Edii who answers the question.

“No, Korm’rk was exhausted and didn’t hang around to talk. We’ll likely have to wait until this afternoon at earliest to know the details.”

There were nods at that, Paz sighing and shifting his weight uneasily.

“Well. Keep eyes out for any surprises, but keep the kids to a dull roar. Let those who need rest get it.”

“What about Mareenh?” asks Eyah. “We can’t prevent her from going into town. I trust her intentions, but I know you’re concerned about it. But forcing her to stay in our line of sight means others will wonder where she is again.”

“We have no choice but to take that risk. So keep alert and keep a close eye on the road,” Paz says. “Today, Elder, I want you to go check on the ship and make sure everything’s operational and pre-plot a course to the nearest place we can avoid notice if we have to, just in case.”

“Sounds good,” says Eyah, and that’s enough for the rest of them.

\---

The day passes well. Korm’rk and the homesteader both rouse briefly to get food and water, and Korm’rk spends some time with his children. Finally the Mandalorians learn to their relief that Satrina is well. He should recover well, but it will likely take a month or so before he is back to normal. The dinner that Paz had started preparing yesterday smells like heaven to Savii, and if the eager way everyone takes a plate is any indication, everyone else thinks so too. They hang around to talk for a bit, carefully using forks to bring small bites up under their helmets to eat. The homesteader finds it so interesting that for a while she herself forgets to taste it, and when she finally does, the Mandalorians are treated to the entertainment of her coughing and wheezing at the mix of hot spices that Paz used.

“Oh my stars, you lot could use your breath in place of those flamethrowers,” the woman finally manages, to yet greater amusement.

The social meal does them all good, and Korm’rk takes a small portion back to his quarters for Satrina, this time bringing his children along to see their father, who apparently will be rousing soon. Beyond that, though, the Mandalorians are left to their own devices, and spend the time relaxing, maintaining their gear, and even have a couple of small sparring matches to release the tension they’ve been feeling.

The next few days, the homesteader has to go to work, and though it makes them uneasy, they don’t do anything to prevent it. Mareenh keeps an eye on them when she’s around the houses, but doesn’t bother them much, other than spending time with Eyah reminiscing about old times. They use names like Rex, Jesse, Hardcase, Blitz, Recoil and Alpha, stories of the Clone Wars; triumphs and sorrows. Sometimes the children (and adults) come to eavesdrop on the stories, and Savii feels a pang, hearing of great warriors discarded like so much trash when they were no longer needed.

As her uncle said, yet another crime of those in the past that they are all paying for now. All of these clones should’ve been Mandalorian, should’ve been given the chance that Elder Eyah gained, and she wishes she could have known them.

So she listens to the tales of these people, and will help remember them, so they are eternal.

\---

After a week, Satrina is walking around, albeit carefully and slowly. Still, he can usually be found sitting on the porch, watching comings and goings with a slight tilt of his head, obviously content.

Savii herself can’t help but enjoy the peace, the labor of helping out around the farm. She remembers fondly the stories of the days when Mandalorians could hang up their armor for a time, and tend their own patches of land, their own livestock. This feels right, in a way, just as much as her rifle in hand does.

She pauses briefly in picking fruit off a short tree to watch the children playing a rough-and-tumble game. Jiiv and Tomad are inside the main house, going over a bag of medications the homesteader brought home this afternoon after hearing that Jiiv needed them. Tomad, learning his _buir’s_ craft, is helping his friend with application, and it gives the two teenagers some time away from their usual responsibility of herding the other kids around.

The little ones are organizing some game, and Savii smiles to see Arivi duck behind a bush, then reappear wearing her trainer helmet, though most of the other kids pull their helms on without care. The simple helmets are light, forged of simple materials with magnets meant to allow weights to be connected to them as the child ages, training the youngsters’ necks for the weight of a real helmet. Zari’s, had he not lost it, was real beskar, having been given to him on his tenth birthday, and had featured his first real heads-up display. Savii knows he’s missing the helm, seeing him shuffling his feet and watching as the other children come up with a game that seems to do with headbutting each other as hard as possible.

It was a good helmet, the visor shaped to birds’-eyes like their _buir’s_ is… was. Her chest aches. But Zari has customized it with bits of purple paint he’d taken from Savii’s kit to accent the eyes, and their _buir’s_ yellow around the mandibles.

She rather hopes that she’ll be able to find some sort of replacement for him soon. Her musing is interrupted when she sees Jiiv and Tomad leaving the main house. Jiiv’s posture is incredibly happy, though he walks a little tenderly, rubbing his left thigh. She turns her attention back to picking fruit, but hears them trying to get Zari to come play and pauses again, turning to watch her little brother, who is looking at the ground.

“I can’t,” says the boy, blushing bright red. “I… I lost my helmet on Nevarro.”

“You what!?” Yelps Uba. “Cousin, you can’t lose your helmet!”

“I did, okay! It was an accident!” Zari says angrily, stomping his foot. “So just play without me!”

“Maybe you can borrow Tomad’s helmet, because-” Kaedo’s mouth is swiftly covered by his older sister, and Savii gapes at the boy in disbelief. Then she glances at Tomad, whose posture has tensed. She turns back to the children and heads for the group to try and head off the fight she can see coming. She notices Edii heading in the same direction. The short woman gets there first, gently putting a hand on each of her children’s shoulders.

“Kaedo, _cyar’ika_ , you should never suggest someone borrow someone else’s helmet, that’s inappropriate.”

“Oh,” he blushes, looking down. Edii gently puts her arm over her son’s shoulders and squeezes while pressing their forehelms together, barely needing to bend to do it; both of her children will likely be taller than her by the end of their tenth year. “I’m sorry…”

“Apologize to both Zari and to Tomad,” Edii says quietly, only heard by Savii because she’s come to her little brother and is ruffling his hair soothingly. Zari attaches himself to her side, hiding half under her cape.

“It’s okay, _vod’ika_ ,” she murmurs softly. He sniffles a little, nodding once Kaedo apologizes to him. The little boy goes to apologize to Tomad, too, who stays tense but politely accepts the apology.

“Zari can’t play with us, I guess,” Arivi says, shuffling a bit. Edii sighs.

“No, he can’t. That’s the consequence of what happened. Losing one’s helmet takes one away from other Mandalorians, and this isn’t… well, it’s not what it’d be like if he were grown, but it’s a good warning. Yes, Zari?”

Zari winces against Savii’s side, and she turns her head to glare at the other Mandalorian through her visor. Zari knows what he did, he doesn’t need the lesson restated. But Edii keeps talking.

“Your helmet is the most important thing, it’s what marks you as what you are, and yours was beskar, the amount of sha-”

“Okay.” Savii plants her feet, moving Zari behind her so she is between him and the other Mandalorian. “He knows. I’ve spoken to him about it. He doesn’t need someone else shaming him in front of everyone like this.”

“Have you? I’ve heard no such thing,” Edii comments mildly. Savii bristles, getting up in her face about it, trying to loom over the much shorter woman. There’s almost a foot in height between them, but Edii is too Mandalorian to be intimidated by such a thing.

“How I care for my little brother is no concern of yours unless I were hurting him, Kryxx!”

Edii pauses, maybe Savii switching to referring to her by last name has caused momentary confusion, but it passed quickly. She bristles back at Savii, and Savii briefly feels her little brother pulling away from behind her, but she quickly refocuses on the other Mandalorian. How dare Edii suggest Savii can’t take care of him? She’s doing all she can with _buir_ not here. Zari’s mostly happy. He made a mistake, that’s not Edii’s business.

“But you are, if you don’t correct him when he makes a mistake that could get him disfellowshipped, then you’re doing him no favours. He’ll grow into a sloppy adult who-”

“Ladies, ladies, can you not-” the homesteader’s voice calls out, sounding nervous. Savii and Edii both shoot looks at her before returning to one another, stances widening. Some dispassionate part of Savii whispers that she knows better than this, that she should be more like her _buir_ , who was ever the peacemaker when tensions ran high.

But _buir_ isn’t here, and Savii is still upset and angry and frustrated, and this other she barely knows is calling into question the very way Savii and her brother were raised by the one she has always loved above all else. She’s not feeling charitable.

“At least he’ll grow up knowing he was loved, Kryxx. Can you say the same of your own children?”

That’s a mistake. Savii shouldn’t have said that. She knows better. There is no worse insult to a Mandalorian than to outright say they’re a terrible parent. But it felt _good_. Edii snarls, hand going to her knife belt-

Paz is suddenly between them, pushing them apart physically. “Okay, alright, Savii, enough. Edii, thank you for your concern, I’m sorry that my niece-”

“Stay out of this, Vizsla,” Edii hisses angrily. “This is between myself and your clanmate, not myself and your whole clan.”

“Maybe, but I won’t have two of my tribe ripping each other to shreds over this-”

“That’s hilarious coming from you, Vizsla!” Edii snarls at the same moment as Savii shouts at her uncle. “Funny, what do you call what you did to Djarin then!?”

Paz rears back, and Savii kind of feels bad, except she was present for the dressing-down Paz got for that incident from his _vod_ , Savii’s _buir_ , and he does kind of deserve it. Edii doesn’t stop there, though.

“You can’t be the peacemaker now, you’re on her side, everyone knows you favor little _Savii’ka_ over all and-”

“Okay, can you all stop!” It might be Ruusaan shouting at them, Savii’s more focused on how she’s going to throttle Edii, her own hand dropping to her knife belt-

“Your temper is the worst of every Mandalorian in this tribe, even your precious niece has inherited it, not to mention the only way you know how to lead is throwing your extreme weight around-”

“Maybe you’d be more pleasant if you had more to your own name than just a couple of children that you won’t tell who sired them-” Savii starts, so angry that she forgets herself, that the children are here witnessing all this. She sees a copper blur out of the corner of her eye, but her brain classifies it as Korm’rk, and she ignores him.

“How dare you bring my little ones into this, Ranov-”

“SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!” Paz roars.

“THIS ISN’T YOUR BUSINESS,” Savii shouts back at her uncle, unafraid of him. “I can deal with this coward my-”

There’s a blow to her chestplate and Savii stumbles back, dodging Edii’s next swipe with a snarl, using one of her new beskar vambraces to block the knife aimed at her. She focuses on this enemy, but is still aware of her uncle trying to move between them again, but then Ruusaan is shoving between both her and Edii, knocking them back, a sharp clang of beskar on beskar, and Paz lets out a pained cry.

Savii glances over to see her uncle curled around his groin, Ruusaan moving as if to immobilize him, and then she’s lunging angrily at Edii, reaching for her own knife-

Suddenly there is an arm barring her throat and she gags as she is hauled up short and rudely yanked back against someone’s chest. A mechanical hand closes hard around her wrist and she fights against Eyah’s hold, even as Korm’rk snatches Edii’s knife-arm and drags her around into an inescapable hold. Savii snarls and fights against the Young Elder, but he sweeps her feet, sending her to the dirt and shoving his weight above her.

 _“That’s enough!”_ It’s Ruusaan, her voice furious, the Mando’a sharp and bitter. _“Absolutely enough! You all know better, and you are spatting like feral hounds in front of the children! Pull yourselves together and act like the Mandalorians you should be!”_

Savii snarls into the dirt, struggling under Eyah, but he is implacable. He leans down over her, and speaks quietly in her ear.

“Savii, I know you’re angry, but you are making it worse for everyone, look at your brother.”

She does, and she sees Zari, eyes wide behind his hands, which are covering his face in horror. Mandalorian children see matches between adults all the time, but a fight… knives out and at each other’s throats…

Shame cools her fire, and Eyah cautiously lifts himself away from her. Korm’rk twists Edii’s arm until she drops her knife. Movement has Savii seeing Satrina moving as quickly as he can towards the group to try and help, obviously in pain.

“We can’t afford to be at each other like this,” says the medic, his voice exhausted, tense. “We’re all stressed and angry. This is a peaceful place, take advantage of it, for Manda’s sake.”

“Stop this, we need all of you hale and working like a team,” Satrina adds, voice weak and pained.

Savii pushes to her feet at the same moment as Edii. Paz, still rolling in agony due to the blow Ruusaan must’ve delivered takes a moment longer. Savii glares angrily at Edii, shaking off Eyah’s grip on her shoulder and stalking towards the house.

The homesteader is standing on the porch, eyes wide and shocked, but Savii brushes past her and storms downstairs, furious and humiliated and embarrassed at her own behavior all at once.

 _You should know better,_ a little voice tells her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, was bound to happen eventually.
> 
> Nakar Adate: Unknown people  
> Gaan’joha: Mandalorian sign language (semi-official document states it’s used in the field by soldiers and usually one-handed)  
> Ner ad’e: My children


	10. Soothe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the song for this whole fic is “This is a Call” by Les Friction https://youtu.be/_5UexaLT1pY I recommend listening to it at some point!
> 
> I did some minor alterations to this fic due to what we’ve had so far in season 2. The Tragedy killed me guys. It absolutely ripped me to shreds. Funny that Savii knows about Bo-Katan when Din doesn't though... hmm...
> 
> I’m still writing mando fic just… slowly. I refuse to let Among Us win!

When she wakes up to a beam of sunlight coming in through the basement’s high window, she grumbles and rolls over, turning her visor away from the rising day. She wants nothing to do with morning. She flashes back to the fight, and grumbles, curling up in a ball and covering her T-visor with her hands.

Ah, yes. that fight. That's why she fell asleep fully armored; sheer spite. Probably also why her little brother isn't curled up at her side this morning.

… Fuck, she should go check on him.

She slowly pushes herself upright and looks around, relieved to see that her uncle is still asleep. Zari is stretched out in his blanket-nest, and she can just see his hair from under his cover. She sighs, scratching at the back of her neck where the skin is bare without her lekku cover, then goes to get cover and cloak. Her uncle is sleeping peacefully she notes, expression soft with both of his little ones cuddled under his protective arm. Jiiv is nowhere to be seen, and Savii wonders if he's already up.

She goes to pull her lekku cover on and hisses in pain when it catches on the spikes of her left lek. Grimacing, she tries to pull the cover off, but the fine mail that the sharp spikes are trapped in holds firms, and pulls sharply. She bites her tongue to prevent cursing and tries her best to free herself without breaking the hard spine. She doesn’t need to deal with that ache for a couple weeks as the keratin nub reforms, like a torn fingernail regrowing. She swears to herself as the mail slips, jerking one of her smaller spines.

“Oh-fuck, damn it all to-”

“Savii?”

She grips the mail tightly to keep it from swinging and looks around to see her uncle watching her with sleep-dimmed eyes. She grumbles and goes back to trying to free herself from her lekku cover. Paz watches for a moment, then carefully frees himself from his still-sleeping children.

“Hold still, I’ve got it.”

“Nghh, it’s got like three spines…”

“Yeah I can see it, plus the little ones on the inside.”

“Aw fu-”

“Language.”

She tenses and hisses through her teeth as her uncle’s hand grips at her lek, bracing it as he works the little mail rings free of her spines. Finally the covering is separated from her, and she sighs in relief as Paz sets the heavy fabric and mail down on the ground. “Thank you.”

“Do you want some help filing your spines down?”

Yes. No. She wants the sharp tips smoothed and rounded down, she doesn’t want to get them stuck in the mail again. She enjoys the attention. She doesn’t want to be trapped in place between her uncle’s knees while he helps her with this necessary maintenance of her body and have him give her the talk she knows he has to about what happened yesterday. She definitely doesn’t want to walk around this strange property with her lekku bare.

“Please, thank you.”

“Here, sit on the floor, I’ll go find a chair.”

* * *

She sits perfectly still, leaned up against the inside of one of Paz’s knees, her back to him, and grumbles. Normally, having a family member help her file down the spines of her lekku is a relaxing endeavor, but she doesn’t want the lecture she knows is coming, and she can’t escape it now. Physically, he’s got her half-trapped between his calves and his left hand is wrapped around her right lek as his right hand holds the file he’s found.

Said file rasps very hard on the first pass, Paz unpracticed with it, and she squirms a little. “Ow.”

“Sorry, it was the finest one she had that would work,” He said, moving it more carefully.

“The hell’s it even for, rounding off metal?” She sighs and relaxes as her uncle uses the file as lightly as possible.

“Jerbra hoof.”

“Oh,” She contemplates that, eyes starting to drift shut as the steady vibration of him filing away at a spine thrums through the sensitive organ. It tingles in her skull, and settles her. It’s always been comfortable to her, other than maybe a few mishaps when her buir was first learning how close to the skin the nubs can be filed without them bleeding. They’re rooted strongly in the flesh, bundled by nerves that extend back to her skull, and the filing of hard keratin is incredibly relaxing to Savii.

As her uncle focuses on what he’s doing, she forgets to worry about the impending lecture, and just closes her eyes. Paz absently hums to himself as he works, and Savii cracks one eye in amusement as she recognizes the Vode An. _Oh, ba'vod'u._

It’s not too long before Zari, Uba and Cedki stir. She watches them pop out of the blankets and look around. Cedki snuggles back in for warmth, but Uba pulls herself free and starts getting dressed, clearly on a mission. It does make Savii think of something, though.

"We need to get the children an extra set of clothing each," she says idly, careful not to move as her lek is adjusted so Paz can start on the next spine. "I had no room for a spare undersuit of my own, either."

"Mmm, it’s not essential but it'd be good to have extra clothes on hand," Paz agrees. "Cedki, no lazing about, go see what Jiiv is doing. I bet there’s breakfast."

Savii tenses slightly, figuring he wants the kids out before he gives her the impending lecture. Her uncle grunts behind her and his knees tighten on her shoulders to keep her in place. _Damnit._ Zari lifts himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes. He glances at Savii, then goes to get Cedki out of bed.

"Morning, vod'ika," Savii says to him.

"...Morning," he mutters, not meeting her eyes. "’M gonna go have breakfast."

"Sure, we'll see you up there," Savii says, looking down so Zari can't see the upset expression on her face. She doesn't like being the source of his discomfort. Cedki whines, but lets Zari pick him up and put him over his shoulder. Savii watches as the children leave, Uba audibly charging up the stairs, Zari closing the door before following her up, Cedki still in his arms. Savii drops her head with a sigh, then winces as it causes the rasp to cut her skin instead of filing the spine Paz is working on. “Ow!”

“That one’s on you,” her uncle comments.

She crosses her arms to sulk, since she can’t do much more, trapped as he has her. Paz doesn’t start lecturing, though; he just continues methodically filing away, and the longer he goes without speaking, the tenser Savii becomes. Finally, he sighs.

“I know I made a fool of myself over Djarin. _Al’Alor_ dressed me down in front of half the tribe in the moment, and your _buir_ gave me another lecture later,” he says. “I don’t need you bringing it up because you want me to leave you alone to make your own mistakes.”

“Edii accused me of hurting Zari!” Savii snaps. “What was I supposed to do, take that?”

“Absolutely not,” her uncle snaps. “You were fully in the right until you decided to drag her children into that argument, and you know it.”

Savii blows out a grumpy breath, glaring at the wall.

“Edii is a strange woman, her choice to birth children when no one knows who the father is…” Paz trails off, trying to find the word.

“Hypocritical, for such a traditionalist,” Savii snorts. “If she wanted kids without a partner that bad, she should’ve Found them.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Paz says neutrally. Savii feels a flash of triumph at that. “But that isn’t Arivi or Kaedo’s fault, and you know it. They didn’t deserve to be dragged through the mud like that.”

Savii turns her head to glare at the other wall.

“Besides, you can’t judge them for being born of parents who didn’t love each other, unless you’re judging me for it too.”

“I’m not - uncle, that’s completely different!” Savii sputters. “Your _buir’e_ were married! You at least know that you were conceived because you were wanted!”

“So it’s a shame for those kids that they were maybe conceived and one parent didn’t want them? That’s a little hypocritical, Daughter of Jepi.”

Savii hunches up her shoulders and closes her eyes, feeling that blow deep. “That’s not fair.”

Pause. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Her uncle isn’t the sort to out and apologize, but it was awful to bring up her birth family like that. He sighs. “Savii, I’m not saying I agree with Edii’s choices in life, but Manda, I don’t even agree with all of my own life choices. She said some things to you that were completely out of line, but you also escalated it. Yes, I probably would’ve done the same thing, but we both know I’m not exactly the best role model when it comes to temperament.”

Savii grunts.

“And that all went down in front of everyone. The rest of our little tribe, our host,” he sighs regretfully. “The children.”

“I… yeah, I know,” Savii says, squirming uncomfortably. Paz adjusts his grip on her lek and returns to filing.

“For the kids’ sake if no other, please apologize to Edii where they can learn from it,” he says. “You don’t have to be her friend, but there needs to be peace in our little tribe. Apologize to her children if she’ll let you near them.”

“She owes Zari an apology too,” Savii growls.

“She does,” Paz agrees. “If she doesn’t give him one, I’ll appreciate it as little as you will. But she’s not my clan, I can’t have this discussion with her.”

Savii grumbles, crossing her arms, but is glad when her uncle ends the discussion there.

* * *

Coming upstairs, she finds the homesteader working away on her computer, apparently blind to the world. Heaving a sigh, Savii heads into the kitchen to find leftovers from the night prior. It reminds her that she went straight to bed well before dinner and sulked until she fell asleep. She loads up two plates and heads back downstairs to bring one to her uncle.

“Looks like everyone’s done with breakfast already, I brought leftovers.”

“Thank you,” Paz says, taking the plate. Savii removes her headgear and helmet and starts eating, still kind of cranky. She stays focused on her plate, and fortunately, so does her uncle. Once they’re both done, he puts on his helmet and takes their plates upstairs to clean, leaving Savii to sort out her lekku covers and cloak in peace. It all slides on nicely with no spines to catch.

She heads back up, and sees the homesteader still engrossed in her computer. Curiously, she steps over to look over Mareenh’s shoulder to see what she’s working on. The woman seems absolutely lost in thought, not even looking around. Savii can easily read over her shoulder, peering at an ongoing chat with someone using the name MAS. She wonders why Mareenh’s username is Bluebird.

_MAS: The notion is ridiculous if you ask me. Any sensible survivors won’t come forward. This isn’t like Alderaani._

_Bluebird: If they do, should we try to get to them before the NR?_

_MAS: Absolutely._

_Bluebird: I don’t have many contacts anymore. Could bring a few more here though. Lots of space._

_MAS: I’d be happy to send them to you._

Mareenh is in the middle of typing _‘It’d be good to have familiar compa-’_ when Savii hums to her herself. The doctor doesn’t even startle or glance over. Savii clears her throat awkwardly, realizing the woman’s been aware of her snooping from the start, but also, it was just plain old stupid and rude to lurk.

“Sorry,” she says.

“Eh, if I was concerned about you reading the conversation I’d have closed the tab when you came in,” Mareenh says without care. “Clones, in case you’re wondering.”

“Clones?”

“We’re talking about clone troopers, from the Old Republic’s army,” Mareenh finishes her sentence and sends it off to MAS, then types in “BRB”. “The New Republic recently reiterated their wish to offer reparations to peoples systematically persecuted by the Empire. Wookiees, Alderaani, Clone troopers, Bothans, Mandalorians-”

Savii snorts disparagingly. Mareenh nods.

“Yeah, haven’t heard of a lot of your people coming to the New Republic, in fact as far as they can tell, you’ve all been wiped out.”

“Such offers of aid always come with strings attached,” Savii answers. “Aid for Mandalore after the Natural Cataclysm and resultant Civil War! But you have to fight our enemies for us! Oh, you’re too scary, maybe fight those other Mandalorians too. Aid for Mandalore after the civil wars we definitely didn’t have a hand in! But only if you accept this Duchy we’re installing! Don’t worry, they’re of Mandalorian blood! Aid for Mandalore, but only if you join our Empire and let us take your children to train up into Stormtroopers! I wonder what the New Republic wants from us being in their debt.”

“That does sound like the Mandalorian history I’ve heard,” says Mareenh, turning back to her computer. “As to the New Republic… well…”

She stands up carefully from the computer and looks out the window. “There’s good, strong-willed people at the top. But organizing a galaxy is a lot of work, some people liked the Empire, for the less than three decades it lasted. But the old Republic… ah… it was in decline even before then. But because they only hear the glory stories, people think remaking it just the way it was is perfect.”

“Remaking it just the way it was before the Rise of the Empire just means it stands in the perfect place to fall and rise into another Empire,” Savii agrees. “I’ll stop snooping on what you’re doing, I was just curious.”

“Curiosity is a healthy trait,” says the old woman wryly.

* * *

“No don’t bull rush him, use your reach! Back- _oooh!_ ”

Savii chuckles, stepping out of the house just in time to see Tomad lifted over Jiiv’s shoulder and thrown to the ground by the larger boy’s own momentum. Korm’rk is hooting over his own son’s misfortune while Satrina instructs the boy to recover. Tomad rolls to his feet, dodging Jiiv’s attempt to bring the fight up close and personal.

“That’s better! Don’t hesitate!” Korm’rk calls out to the lad.

“Go low, Jiiv! Gettem!” squeals Uba, trying to help her _ori’vod_. Paz is standing off to the side, one hand on his hip, supervising the sparring match. Savii pauses to watch as Tomad rushes his best friend again, Jiiv dropping his shoulder in preparation to throw Tomad again. This time, though, Tomad drops to his knees at the last moment, skidding in and grabbing Jiiv around the knees and then lifting himself, tossing the smaller boy to the ground while keeping a hold on him, using his greater size and reach to advantage. Jiiv yells indignantly, smacking Tomad around the back, clapping hands on his helmet, trying to regain control.

“Use your flexibility, _Ad’ika_! Don’t try to match his grip,” Paz rumbles out. Savii grins, moving around the match, thinking about going for a walk. She needs to cool off a bit more before she can handle the group. She heads down the path towards the ship, figuring she should do something useful by checking the systems.

It’s a peaceful walk, though as she nears the intersection to the target range, she can hear gunfire. There’s a pause in it, and excited chattering in childish voices; Savii can hear Raela and Zari distantly, and a whine from Nkui. Shooting practice with Ruusaan, then. Good, they can get their confidence up with sidearms.

The ship is where they left it, and Savii circles it, checking it for damage, taking in its shape properly for the first time. It’s vaguely Imperial-shaped, and old. No wait… faded paint on the wing. The insignia of the Old Republic. Huh, neat. It even has some weapons, she notes. Warship or combat shuttle from the Clone Wars, maybe? She taps on the console by the boarding ramp, then clambers aboard.

It’s peaceful, looking over the ship, exploring and checking that everything’s in good shape. The crates of Imperial rations sit, still untouched, but they may be grateful for those in the days ahead. They can’t stay on Dantooine forever, no matter how idyllic.

* * *

She’s playing with the comms when the ship picks up a frequency in use. She double-checks to ensure that she’s not broadcasting, and listens in curiously.

//-day. I don’t think it’s worth worrying anyone about.//

//I don’t like it that a New Republic agent is coming around, asking questions and thinking they’re slick.//

//Have you told Bluebird yet?//

Hold up now…

//No, spoke to her a bit this morning on type. She’s ‘busy’ still.//

//Heh, always something going on there,// the tone of voice is fond. //I’m sure it’s fine.//

Is it two or three people? She can’t tell, they all have the same voices… sort of like…

Sort of Like Eyah and that ‘Gunnar’ guy. _Clones!_ Interesting. Maybe they’re using old Clone wars comms, hence why the ship picked the conversation up so easily.

//What is going on there right now, anyone know?//

//Nah, my _Ad_ went there the other day and swears there’s a group there, but he didn’t see anything concrete. Bluebird’s a soft touch with a lot of old friends, not our business if she’s helping someone lay low for a bit.//

Okay… one of these is the father of that unexpected visitor. Using casual Mando’a? Hmm, maybe it’s a Clone Thing? So they know something’s going on, but that one doesn’t think it’s concerning.

//Tch, I think it is if we’re looking for places for a lot of people to lay low,// grumps one of the voices. //We already have a problem with the New Republic toady asking around about her.//

Ah… she leans in, listening to the conversation.

//I wasn't there, but I don’t think the Skugsucker’s New Republic,”// grunts one of the clones. //Well, their clothes were, but they weren’t acting on New Republic jurisdiction. Bluebird’s been officially cleared by their courts, thank you very much. I should know since I’m the one who paid for the damn lawyer.//

//Indeed,// says a voice that is unquestionably different. Not a clone. Hmm. //The sooner you let her know someone’s looking for her, the better.//

//Soon as I see her online again I’ll let her know,// says one of the clone voices. //Until then, I’m more interested in hearing how your recon went. Did you actually see him? Is it really Recoil?//

//Yes! Yes it is, I couldn’t believe it, but he’s been doing-//

Savii turns off the transmitter. Interesting to eavesdrop, but the relevant bit’s over. She’d better get back to the homestead.

* * *

Walking back, Savii is greeted to the sight of the sparring matches having turned to Recruit vs Adult, Jiiv learning to dodge and weave away from the telegraphed blows that Ruusaan is throwing, and Tomad is sitting on the sidelines, clearly resting after his own bout. This is about teaching reactionary tactics, lightness of the feet, and endurance. Ruusaan isn’t actually hitting the boy, simply forcing him to move, building his endurance and making him learn to react to each blow as it comes.

The homesteader is leaned on her porch rail watching, and Savii heads straight for her, nodding once to Satrina, who is sitting on the porch stairs. Satrina nods back, then returns his attention to the lesson going on.

“Hey Bluebird,” Savii says, causing Mareenh’s head to jerk over in her direction, her brow furrowing. “I was cycling my ships’ comms and accidently pinged into a conversation about you. Apparently someone was looking for you in town dressed as a New Republic Agent. Best check your messages.”

“Oh- I, uh…” Mareenh pushes off the rail and hurries inside. Savii looks down to Satrina, and he tilts his head, thinking a long moment.

“So,” he says finally. “Best gather everyone up?”

“Yup, I think they’ll want to hear this.”

* * *

“Well,” sighs Eyah, contemplating the information. “Well, well.”

They’re gathered just outside the house, watching the children entertain themselves around the yard. Uba and Kaedo have stretched out in the grass and fallen asleep, but the rest are exploring every nook and cranny of the riverbed, trying to catch frogs or fish with their bare hands. Dantooine has been good to them.

“Might be time to find somewhere else to live for a while,” Muses Ruusaan, arms folded.

“Seems wise to me,” Drawls Paz. “Where should we go next?”

“I’d want to wait around just long enough to know what’s going on and if our friend Mareenh is a threat to us,” Satrina grunts. “I hope not; she seems kind, but it’s pretty clear she has her own allegiances and enemies.”

“Agreed,” muses Ruusaan. “If it were simply us adults, I’d be willing to stay here and help her defend herself, since she has been so kind and helpful. But we have the children to think of, and by all accounts, she appears to have allies she can call upon for help. We should endeavour to leave soon.”

“Right away,” votes Edii with a grunt. “We don’t even tell her we’re going. We just go.”

“Now, wait a moment,” Eyah interjects. “I’d want to be sure none of her friends are monitoring the area first. We could get a lot more attention that way.”

“Hm…” Edii crosses her arms. Savii looks away from her, staring out into the forest.

“The ship will be harder to identify at night,” her uncle says. “We’ll kill any and all running lights before we depart. We wait for her to be asleep, then leave. That gives the Elder time to do his safety checks.”

It’s an executive decision, but apparently no one has a problem with it, because no one speaks up.

“What about the children?” Savii asks, watching the young ones. “Do we tell them to prepare to move?”

“No,” says her uncle. “It’s not fair to them, but they’re children, they won’t be able to act like it’s business as usual if they know we’re preparing to leave. We’ll explain it to them at the ship.”

Korm’rk mutters something to Eyah, but no one objects.

“Ruusaan,” Paz says, turning to her. “You rest, we’ll watch the children. Be awake and alert for the midnight hours. You’ll pilot the ship out.”

The warrior nods slowly, folding her arms. Savii lets out a little sigh, looking towards the house. The homesteader is just visible within, typing away on her computer, expression grave.

* * *

Savii’s siting on the stone wall, watching Zari accept frogs that Nkui’s catching. She’s not sure why there’s a whole bag of frogs going, the sack croaking sadly, but she assumes she’ll figure it out eventually. The boys have a purpose, and she trusts them not to do something cruel to the poor creatures.

It’s too bad they’re leaving; Dantooine has done wonders for all of them, even herself. Savii hasn’t ever experienced such a peaceful idyllic place, but this… this is what Mandalorians are trying to regain. Maybe someday, the tribe can visit here again.

Deliberate footsteps approach, and she doesn’t look around. Whomever it is is simply alerting her to their presence. Another Mandalorian, nothing to fear.

Then Edii clears her throat, and Savii snaps around to stare at her.

“A private word, while we can have it?”

“... Sure.” Savii says. Might as well finish that fight where it won’t upset the kids. She glances around and spots Satrina sitting on a rock by the creek, supporting Thal as the boy picks water flowers. She gives him a little wave, then points to Zari and Nkui. Satrina tilts his head and nods to indicate he’ll watch them.

Savii slides off the wall, turning to face Edii. She expects the other woman to lead her away from the group, but instead, Edii lets out a long sigh and folds one arm behind her back, ducking her head slightly.

“I owe you and your foundling an apology.”

Savii looks away, toward where Zari is adding another frog to the sack. Maybe Edii mistakes her confusion for expectancy, or maybe Edii just wants to get it over with, because she carries on.

“My intent was a reminder to my own children of what happens when you make a mistake, using Zari as an example. I… wasn’t thinking of recent… events. That doesn’t excuse hurting your little brother.”

Savii sighs. It’s not the apology she wants, but, well. “I owe yours an apology for… what I said about them. And I owe you one for suggesting that you don’t love them. I am sorry for that, I know better than to let anger make me say untrue things. But I did it anyway.”

“Hm.”

Savii continues. “But you… I recognize that you’ve been trying to help, but the children, all of them. This is new and harsh and not how they should’ve been introduced to war.”

“... You’re talking about more than your younger brother,” Edii hazards.

“Of course I am,” Savii sighs. “Tomad told me that you spoke to him.”

“Hmm.”

“Tell me,” Savii says, looking directly at the other woman. “You saw my face when I was a teen. I was older than him. Do you think I’m not a Mandalorian?”

“That was a vastly different scenario and you-” Edii starts indignantly, but trails off when she realizes she’s raised her voice and some of the children are looking in their direction. Savii hears her take a long calming breath. “I’d say what the Imperials did to you is rather different than what happened on the ship.”

Savii scoffs, shaking her head. “The situation is different, but… no, I won’t have you tell me it’s completely different. Tomad had to face what it means to be a Mandalorian; the fear, the violence, the loss of those you love to the enemy. That’s what I had to face too. It was a stupid, thoughtless thing he did, I agree, but if we remind him again and again of it, he’ll probably feel like he already is no longer Mandalorian, not empowered to fight the urge to do it again.”

“Mmm,” Edii puts a hand to the back of her neck. “That is… a different way to think of it than I have been.”

There’s a long pause, and Savii contemplates that neither of them has actually _apologized_ to the other yet, despite agreeing they should. She sighs.

“I _am_ sorry. Everyone knows how much you love your children. I shouldn’t have implied you don’t,” she tells the other women. “And, I shouldn’t have dragged Arivi and Kaedo into our disagreement like that. They don’t deserve words like that. With your permission, I’d like to apologize to them.”

“They asked me about who their father is last night,” Edii says flatly. Savii clears her throat awkwardly at that, looking away. She notices Eyah watching them and sighs, turning away from him. “It was bound to happen eventually, but I hoped they would be older. But thank you, and if you wish to apologize to them, you can. But I would ask you to apologize for insulting our family, not for mention of their parentage.”

“I can do that,” Savii says. She looks back to Edii expectantly. If the other woman doesn’t proffer her own apology…

“Thank you,” Edii sighs, lowering her shoulders. “I admit, I thought it best that we… have this discussion where the children can see. Resolving conflict through ways other than violence is something that we all struggle with.”

“I can agree with that,” Savii says, considering restarting said violence, but then Edii says what she should.

“I am sorry too,” states the assassin. “I did not mean to suggest you are not caring for your brother. I know you’re doing your best, and you’ve been shouldering your fair portion of the labor and stress that we’re all facing.”

“Mm,” Savii shakes her head, looking at the ground. “I… appreciate it. I know that it should be _Buir_ here, taking care of Zari, not me, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t-”

“I cannot think of any situation where any half-decent parent could have made any choice other than what your _buir_ did,” Edii says, stepping closer and surprising Savii by grasping her elbow. “If I were in Abara’s place, Savii, I would have done the same thing they did a million times over to keep my children safe.”

Savii lets out a long sigh. “Yeah… I know.”

“You came into a good family,” Edii adds. “And I know that depending on what happens to them, you might not forgive them for leaving with the Foundlings, but… you love them for who they are, and who they are is not the kind of person who’d let their daughter die if they have anything to say about it.”

“I- thanks,” Savii clears her throat loudly to suppress a sniffle. “Yeah.”

“With your permission, I do owe Zari an apology, though I’ll need a little time to decide how to best word it, if that’s alright,” Edii says.

“Yes… That’s fine,” Savii replies. “I’d like to be there for it, though.”

“That’s fair, thank you.” Edii puts her head back to stare at the sky as if to give Savii a moment of privacy. Savii shakes her head to push the tears away. Well, at least they’re not going to kill one another now, so that’s-

“We need to get the kids inside.”

At that sharp statement, Savii’s head snaps to Edii, then she follows the other Mandalorian’s gaze skyward. She sees… what is that?

She drops her rangefinder and looks again, her scopes picking out the shape of... of...

Oh no.

“Imperial shuttle!” Savii yells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screw this talking stuff, time for some _action_ next chapter!


End file.
